The present controversy over the safety problems involving planes built by the nation’s number one manufacturer of aircraft located in the upper northwest would surely have produced commentary by the late Lewis Grizzard (LG) during his short lifespan (1947-1994) and career as a newspaper columnist and humorist.
Publicly acknowledging his “fear of flying” in several books and articles, he first put his manual Royal typewriter into operation on the topic on “Won’t You Come Home, Billy Bob Bailey” (1980-Peachtree Publishers).
His introduction to the chapter sets the tone for his aversion to being buckled into the seat of a commercial carrier:
“A lot of people aren’t really serious about their fear of flying. I am. I once rode a bus from Atlanta to El Paso and back to avoid flying. Don’t knock it. The bus station in Shreveport, where you stop for dinner, has terrific meat loaf, which is impossible to find on any airline in this country.”
A stewardess who had survived two crash landings gave LG the scholarly advice of “don’t panic” when passengers and crew face the potential of making an early trop to their Maker from high altitudes.
LG his own concern and interpretation of the aforementioned descriptive term stated:
“1. I panic dialing the airlines for reservations.
2. I panic getting a shoeshine before my flight.
3. In flight, it is Terror City at 30,000 feet.
4. I dare not eat anything. In order to eat, I would have to loosen my grip on the seat.
5. I dare not have a conversation with a fellow passenger. I must remain completely quiet in order to listen for changes in the engine tone.
6. I dare not go to the restroom when I fly, either, because once I did. The plane hit turbulence and a light came on in the restroom that said ‘return to your seat immediately.’ When you are in the restroom on an airplane, it is not always possible to return to your seat immediately. What did I do? I panicked, of course, but I will spare you the details.”
After a sabbatical of six years being a commercial passenger he re-evaluated his position of reluctance after sustaining a flat tire along a lonely stretch in Alabama followed by the hitchhiking experience of riding in the back of a semi hauling hogs to the next town seventy-five miles away.
After surviving the stench of his travelling swine companions, LG decided to take another chance in the Wild Blue Yonder after getting flying advice from a friend who was an ex-Air Force pilot for encouragement:
“My first flight after my absence from the skies was leaving at two o’clock in the afternoon. By ten in the morning, I had already broken out in some hideous rash and had checked and rechecked my will.
I decided to call my friend, the pilot, for encouragement. Perhaps he could calm me.
The words LG received did not prevent the writer from worrying about his proposed Airborne Adventure. After checking out the provisions in his then current Last Will and Testament he decided to consider the sage advice from his buddy:
1. ‘I’ve flown thousands of hours,’ he began. ‘If anything happens to the plane, or there is any sign of trouble, just do the following:
2. Bend down as far as you can behind the seat in front of you. Grab each ankle securely. Bend your head between your legs and …
‘I know,’ I interrupted him, ‘don’t panic.’
3. ‘No,’ he said, ‘kiss your bohunkus goodbye.’”
(With the addition of two new passenger gates at the successor to Marr Field (East Chattanooga) at a nominal cost of $28 million LG could also fly the friendly skies out of Choo Choo City!)
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You can reach Jerry Summers at jsummers@summersfirm.com
Jerry Summers