Throwback Thursday from 2016 – “Flying To Texas Can Be Fun”

 

Throwback Thursday from 2016 – “Flying To Texas Can Be Fun”

A LONG TIME AGO in a galaxy far, far away I grew up in Western Pennsylvania on the edges of Pennsylvania Dutch Country. Most people refer to them as the Amish. That is an oversimplification of course. There are a large variety of “Amish” communities and sects – each with their own set of rules.

The date of the community’s founding determines some of the rules. Many will not use a technology that came about after the founding date. That is why some groups will not use motorized vehicles while other will. Some will use telephones, others will not.

Last week while we flew to Texas I saw something new. Passing through the Indianapolis airport I saw an Amish family heading toward baggage claim. This was the first time I had heard of Amish flying. “Must be a new community.”

Lagging a touch behind was a trio of Amish teens, pausing to snap a couple of Selfies. “Kids! What’s the matter with kids today?”

That was all before we even got on our plane.

Our flight to Dallas was uneventful. Then the typical Dallas weirdness began to unravel.

The Dallas Airport is bigger than some small countries, and just as disorganized and subject to institutionalized stupidity.

Example: There is a monorail that shuttles travelers from one terminal to another. I doubt that any two gates are closer than a standard time zone. The distance from one terminal to the next is not the issue.

The issue is the speed of the monorail. I’m thinking that the Engineers, Conductors or Drivers must be retired Indy Car Racers hired by the airport once they can no longer make the field of 33. Whoever is at the wheel must think they are still trying to pass an Andretti in Turn Four. The travelers are holding on for dear life around the curves. Kids are grabbing onto anything they can. It brought back memories of Space Mountain at Disneyland.

After getting to Gate B739 for our short flight down to Corpus Christi I thought it would be clear sailing from then on.

WRONG-O!

Our plane for the final hop was called a “CRJ-900” operated by Mesa Airlines (Not one of the biggies). I think the “CRJ” stood for “Complete Rusty Junk.” The “900”, I suspect, is for the last year the plane was cleaned.

I don’t expect the plane to be operating room hygienic, but Duct Tape holding the seats together? The seats already looked like something left over from WW I – about three inches thick and unable to stay in “The Full Upright and Locked Position.” I fully expected to see some wicker popping out of a split seam.

I had heard that there was some fog in Corpus, so when I looked out the window and saw nothing I wasn’t concerned – until I turned and looked out the window on the other side of the aisle – Blue Sky And Sunshine. My window was scratched to the point of being equivalent to looking into a bowl of oatmeal.

And I’m sure our plane was serviced by the lowest bidder.  If the quality of the interior of the airplane was any indicator the whole operation might just be a Camp Fire Girls Project. The plane lands safely – get a Merit Badge.

Wohelo.

Single Post Navigation

← Older Entry

Newer Entry →