SO we're in Arizona and want to see the Grand Canyon. Tammy gets the notion that it would be awesome to see it for the first time from a helicopter and sets it up with the outfit that has the most ad space on the website dedicated to touring the big ditch. By the time we get there, I’ve worked up a good deal of excitement about the whole thing myself. I mean the “terminal” is first class, the ground crew and pilots are wearing airline-like uniforms, the choppers are colored up real pretty and they had a bunch of ‘em. Cool.
There were about 25 people there waiting to ride and every one of them was from some other county. Asians and Scotsmen and Indians (far eastern), all jappering like magpies as they waited their turn in climbing aboard to fly off toward an unparalleled view of one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
After what seemed to be hours, they called us up to hand out our seat assignments. These were decided in deference to weigh distribution and Tammy’s little card said “SEAT-1”, while mine said “SEAT-5”. Uh? Seat Five? Wait a minute here, the damn things weren’t big enough for more than 4 seats and one of them had to be the pilot. Right? How could I have seat FIVE?
Turns out there weren’t five seats, there were Seven! Tammy crawls up in the front seat next to the pilot and I climb in the back (which has the floor space of a bath tub) with four fat Germans. They were fat because they had just enjoyed a big meal. And how do I know they had just eaten a big meal? Because 4 minutes into the 45 minute trip, I had the misfortune to see that meal as it made its way back out the way it had gone in.
There’s no ventilation in the back and the sun steaming in the window is baking the chunks of Fahrvergnügen to their collective chins. Did I mention that I was sitting backwards, directly across from two of these air-sick Tourist? I try not to look at ‘em, but the only other place I can look is toward the outside, which you’d think was manifest in a big window. WRONG. My seat was adjacent to a support post and the only way I could see out was to crane my neck into an unnatural “S” shape that (I can tell you) is hard to maintain for 45 minutes, WHILE HOLDING YOUR BREATH!
By twisting my head around 180 degrees (think Linda Blair in The Exorcist), I can see Tammy lounging in her quarter of the cabin. Is she suffering the truly unholy odor of regurgitated sauerkraut? NO! Turns out she has her very own fresh air vent, which the snotty little pilot regulated to her every whim. Yeah, there she was with her hair blown back as she gazed in awe at the panoramic view of what we’d BOTH traveled a couple of thousand miles to see.
Ah hell, I was happy for her.
There were about 25 people there waiting to ride and every one of them was from some other county. Asians and Scotsmen and Indians (far eastern), all jappering like magpies as they waited their turn in climbing aboard to fly off toward an unparalleled view of one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
After what seemed to be hours, they called us up to hand out our seat assignments. These were decided in deference to weigh distribution and Tammy’s little card said “SEAT-1”, while mine said “SEAT-5”. Uh? Seat Five? Wait a minute here, the damn things weren’t big enough for more than 4 seats and one of them had to be the pilot. Right? How could I have seat FIVE?
Turns out there weren’t five seats, there were Seven! Tammy crawls up in the front seat next to the pilot and I climb in the back (which has the floor space of a bath tub) with four fat Germans. They were fat because they had just enjoyed a big meal. And how do I know they had just eaten a big meal? Because 4 minutes into the 45 minute trip, I had the misfortune to see that meal as it made its way back out the way it had gone in.
There’s no ventilation in the back and the sun steaming in the window is baking the chunks of Fahrvergnügen to their collective chins. Did I mention that I was sitting backwards, directly across from two of these air-sick Tourist? I try not to look at ‘em, but the only other place I can look is toward the outside, which you’d think was manifest in a big window. WRONG. My seat was adjacent to a support post and the only way I could see out was to crane my neck into an unnatural “S” shape that (I can tell you) is hard to maintain for 45 minutes, WHILE HOLDING YOUR BREATH!
By twisting my head around 180 degrees (think Linda Blair in The Exorcist), I can see Tammy lounging in her quarter of the cabin. Is she suffering the truly unholy odor of regurgitated sauerkraut? NO! Turns out she has her very own fresh air vent, which the snotty little pilot regulated to her every whim. Yeah, there she was with her hair blown back as she gazed in awe at the panoramic view of what we’d BOTH traveled a couple of thousand miles to see.
Ah hell, I was happy for her.
