Monday, September 24, 2012


I make no secret of the fact that I am one of those geeks that loves all things Zombie.  I have seen every zombie movie ever made.  For those of you seeking recommendations; Day of the Dead, Shaun on the Dead, and Zombieland are personal favorites.  For all of you aviators out there, I recently discovered Flight of the Dead about a weaponized zombie virus that is accidentally released in the cargo hold of a jet plane, requiring the Pilots and Cabin Crew to battle the Undead at 30,000 feet.  I watch The Walking Dead TV series religiously and participate in discussion groups analyzing how the series strays from the original comic.. er, I mean, graphic novel.  I have read World War Z by Max Brooks (okay, I've read it five times... with a highlighter) and purchased the audio book (which effing rocks!).  Hey!  I've already admitted to being a geek!

In spite of my love for zombie Apocalypse scenarios, its not like I am preparing for one.... until now.  I recently stopped at a Walmart in Mocksville NC one evening.  The patrons of this particular Walmart had me concerned.  They all had the shuffling unsteady gait and vacant blank expression that is the hallmark of Zombie virus infection or the consumption of copious amounts of Haldol, or some other equally powerful anti-psychotic medication.  Either way, it wasn't good.

All I needed was a gallon of milk, and a bag of dog food.  Unfortunately, these items were located in opposite ends of the store.  As the other customers clumsily staggered about, drooling slightly, smelling like the undead (or the unwashed), I hastily grabbed a shopping cart thinking I could use it to mow down some of the "Walkers" if they attacked.  Rather than go straight for the dog food at the back corner of the store, I went to the hunting department and selected a crossbow.  Then I made a quick pass through sporting goods and picked up an aluminum baseball bat.  Finally, I made my way to the housewares department for a new meat cleaver.

Fully armed to battle the Undead (if necessary), I picked up a gallon of milk and a bag of Dog Chow.  I rapidly made my way to the express checkout lane, weaving in and out of the walking dead.  With a quick swipe of my credit card, I ran from the store, threw my purchases in my truck, and sped out of the parking lot.

Now I just have to find a way to explain the crossbow, baseball bat, and meat cleaver to PilotHusband.


Thursday, September 20, 2012


AngryPilotWife met PilotHusband when we attended the same college.  It was August of 1990... and we have been together ever since.  Its been 22 years, and 25 days (not that anyone is counting, mind you).  I COULD HAVE KILLED A MAN, AND GOTTEN OFF WITH LESS TIME!  People have asked me, "How do you keep a relationship going for so long?".  The answer is simple.... he leaves.  That is the beauty, the foundation, the life-spring, the glue, that keeps us together.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip, giving me enough time to recover from everything he did to piss me off when he was home.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip to  give me enough time to start missing him.  PilotHusband leaves on a trip to allow me to fall back, regroup, and maintain my sanity.  It may sound dysfunctional, but it works for us.

Alas, dear readers, I fear the worst.  The Perfect Storm is upon us.  Just like the remnants of a hurricane merging with a nor'easter that sunk George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg, the seas are getting rough.  PilotHusband has been home for 10 days.  I did not sign up for that.  No one in scheduling asked me if that was okay (because it is most definitely NOT okay. people!).  Perhaps he will get a trip this weekend, but after that.... the ultimate storm is coming.  At the end of this month, PilotHusband has 2 days off, followed by 7 primary vacation days, followed by 7 secondary vacation days, FOLLOWED BY 5 REGULAR DAYS OFF... giving us a grand total of 21 days off in a row.  Really?  REALLY?  REALLY?

Just how many hours of the Military Channel do you think I can sit through?  I can already give you the full biography of all of "Hitler's Henchmen" and identify their medals.  I can identify 15 different tanks by their silhouette.  I can break down and reassemble an M16.  I have pages of dialogue memorized from Band of Brothers, A Bridge Too Far, Kelly's Heroes, Where Eagles Dare, The Dirty Dozen, and The High and the Mighty.

No disrespect to my boys at, but Mama needs a little computer time too.  If PilotHusband is home for 21 days straight, APW will have to go on hiatus because what could be more important than what Buzzpat, Tsquare, Forgot to Bid, Boomer, DogWhisperer, HoserPilot, Ferd, Scambo, 80 KTS, and Wasatch have to say?

This is a nightmare of EPIC proportions!  Is there not a bean counter at the Air Line who can weigh the risk of leaving a pilot at home for 21 days versus the insurance payout and cost of retraining a replacement when the wife finally snaps?  I'm just sayin'.

Sunday, September 16, 2012


Recently, AngryPilotWife, PilotHusband, and our 6 year old son, took a trip to the North Carolina Zoo.  This was a miracle because it required PilotHusband to not only turn off the Military Channel and get off the sofa, but also drive over two hours to get there.  Pilothusband does not drive anywhere but the Charlotte airport.  I took great pleasure in counting which one of my two "boys" said "How much further?" the most.  Final score: six year old, 22 times.  PilotHusband, 46 times.

The zoo was fun.  But somewhere between the lions and the gorilla exhibit, I got a bad case of the giggles.  I suddenly got this image of a habitat for Air Line Pilots and I couldn't shake it.  Just imagine it!

The pilot habitat would be presented in two sections.  In the first, pilots would be viewed in their natural home habitat... laying on the couch, drinking beer, watching Fox News in the morning and the Military Channel for the rest of the day.  Visiting school children could purchase small bottles of Leffe from food dispensers to feed the pilots.  Oh how they would squeal with delight when one of the pilots actually moved off of the sofa to check AirlinePilotCentral on the computer.  I can hear it now... "Mommy! Did you see that one move?"

In the next viewing area, pilots could be displayed in their work habitat.  I envision a crew room with happy chubby pilots laying in LazyBoy chairs watching FoxNews.  How delighted zoo visitors will be when a pilot occasionally gets up to check in on the computer or scratch something.  In this viewing area, children could purchase small cups of hot sauce from a dispenser to feed the pilots.  The pilots could add the hot sauce to the food court fare provided by the zookeepers, much to the delight of onlookers.  And what a magical moment it would be to actually witness a silverback pilot showing off his new Rolex to the rest of the herd!

At the end of our adventure, I purchased a membership to the NC Zoological Society.  I can't wait to fill out the suggestion card!

Friday, September 14, 2012


Have ya'll seen FATAL ATTRACTION?  You know, that movie with Glenn Close who has the affair with Michael Douglas, and then goes nuts and boils the family's pet bunny on the stove and tries to kill Anne Archer, his wife?  (It should be mandatory viewing for anyone with a penis... I'm just sayin').  You may think this is a great work of fiction by some Hollywood screenwriter, but psycho-chicks do exist.  I mean they REALLY exist... not like Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, the second gunman on the grassy knoll, secret messages in The Catcher in the Rye, or UFOs.  I mean they REALLY REALLY exist.  This is not some urban legend crafted by wives to keep their husbands in line.

By now you know AngryPilotWife is all-knowing.  If you think I get pissy with my PilotHusband, you should read the private emails I get from other PilotWives out there.  This is not gossip.  It is presented as a cautionary tale, because you know I love all my pilot readers out there, and I would hate for you to come home and find Fluffy simmering on the stove.  Sooo...

There is a fairly senior Flight Attendant, at a Legacy carrier, who (allegedly) will get you liquored up on an overnight, drag you back to her room, and (allegedly) screw you silly.  Now one may think, "What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam", however, this crazy b!tch (allegedly) demands your cell phone number and your schedule so she can non-rev to your next overnight to continue the "relationship".  If you try to decline, she (allegedly) will threaten to contact your wife.  Even if you comply, eventually, she will feel like she is not getting enough attention, and (allegedly) call you at home and contact your wife, anyway.

No matter how you try to appease this Amazonian psycho-stew, she will (allegedly) bust you.  Then you will end up being dragged to the doctor's office, by your wife, to be tested for "everything"... which requires having a swab shoved two inches up your weenie (Oh yes!  I went there! Cringe away!).  If the Doctor is sympathetic to your spouse, he or she will "accidentally" drop the swab on the floor, forcing you to endure this medieval torture a second time.  And after months of embarrassing couples therapy, you will still end up living in a van, down by the river.

I am not naive.  I know that couples can grow apart.  People fall out of love.  Relationships end.  That's unfortunate, but it happens.  Just beware of having that decision made for you.  Amazonian, senior, married Flight Attendants, from North Carolina, who bed you on overnights, may (allegedly) go all Fatal Attraction on you and totally screw up your universe.  And if you smell rabbit stew... RUN, BROTHER, RUN!!!!!!!!