Despite federal law, we won’t insult your intelligence by describing how to buckle a seatbelt. If you die on this flight because of your inability to buckle your seatbelt, we will pause for a moment of silence to thank natural selection for thinning the herd.
Because it isn’t 1975, this is a non-smoking flight. Also, just so you know: That nicotine gum you’re chewing makes your breath smell like a pharmacy fire.
At this time, please turn off and stow all electronic devices, because an iPod playing Ke$ha could cause this plane to fall from the sky. OK, that’s not true. We just made up that rule so we could watch our business travelers and teenagers go into DTs when they’re unable to fondle their gadgets.
Federal law prohibits a lot of stuff but most especially terrorism, so don’t do that anywhere, including in the airplane lavatories. If you tamper with the smoke detectors, an alarm will sound and we will all make fun of you until the sound becomes maddening, at which point someone will likely beat you.
Once airborne, we will not be serving snacks or beverages. We sized you up on your way in and you clearly don’t need any snacks. If you can’t go an hour without a snack, bring your own damn pretzels next time.
The following instruction is for the lady in Row 12, Seat D: Please stop boring that stranger next to you with stories about your daughter’s soccer game. Also, to the gentleman in Row 20, Seat C, please hold in your farts. Sheesh, talk about turbulence!
Ladies and gentlemen, please focus your mental energy on keeping this 1 million-pound aircraft aloft, despite the law of gravity. That’s basically how airplane technology works. If one single person aboard doubts this plane can stay aloft, it will plummet faster than a 401(k) that’s heavily invested in airline stocks. We’re not kidding about this.
If there are any libertarians on this flight, please note that your unsubsidized fare for this trip would have been approximately $35,000. Of course, that means nobody would fly, and this form of travel would not exist at all here, like light rail. The captain estimates your approximate driving time to Atlanta would be about seven hours. Oh, but wait. You wouldn’t want to drive on roads and bridges that are paid for with tax dollars, not to mention auto and energy subsidies, because that would be hypocritical. So the captain has done some math, and he estimates your approximate walking time to Atlanta would be about 21 days. We hope you enjoy your stay in 1879.
In the event of a water landing, let’s face facts: You will probably be dead. If not, you will probably wish you were dead. If not, the plane will probably be cracked into multiple pieces, so just hug your flotation device and try to paddle to safety. No matter what happens, you won’t remember what we said here, so just try to think about puppies or chocolate.
If we experience non-flatulent (ahem, Mr. Row 20, Seat C) turbulence, the captain will light the “Hold In Your Pee” sign, indicating you should make peace with your god and silently promise to lead a better life, which you will forget immediately upon landing safely. If we experience extreme turbulence, try to wedge yourself between two chubby passengers for optimal cushion.
As your reward for paying attention to these important safety announcements, we have a gift for you from our partner, Harpo Productions. Beneath your seat, you’ll find a gift box that contains a Xanax and a bottle of organic, reverse-osmosis-filtered, locally sourced craft beer. That’s right, you get a Xanax and a beer! You get a Xanax and a beer! You get a Xanax and a beer! Everybody gets a Xanax and a beer!
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re all trying to get by without our weapons and our smokes and our snacks and our gadgets, so let’s just make the most of this time we have together. Please sit back, relax and enjoy your flight.
Give the gift of sarcasm this Christmas: “Summary of My Discontent,” the book, now available at Carmichael’s Bookstore or lulu.com.