And so it was back then...and never will be again
Jetcap· 5 janMy friend in the airline business sent this on………
In the age of the 707 / DC8 / 727 / DC9
Those were the good ole days. Pilots back then were men that didn't want
to be women or girlymen. Pilots all knew who Jimmy Doolittle was. Pilots
drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars and didn't wear digital watches.
They carried their own suitcases and brain bags like the real men that
they were. Pilots didn't bend over into the crash position multiple times
each day in front of the passengers at security so that some Gov't agent
could probe for tweezers or fingernail clippers or too much toothpaste.
Pilots did not go through the terminal impersonating a caddy pulling a
bunch of golf clubs, computers, guitars, and feed bags full of tofu and
granola on a sissy-trailer with no hat and granny glasses hanging on a
pink string around their pencil neck while talking to their personal
trainer on the cell phone!!!
Being an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel Brooks
movie. All the Stewardesses (aka.Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the sexual
revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and suck it in to
get through the cockpit door. They would blush and say thank you when told
that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual harrassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men.... with no
thoughts of substitution.
Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite, they could speak AND
understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to loud gangsta
rap on their IPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a rotting pile of
garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops. Children didn't travel alone,
commuting between trailer parks. There were no mongolhordes asking for a
'mu-fuggin' seatbelt extension or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail
with a twist.
If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting jerk off the
airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or getting fired.
Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom and left an
impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft coal. Jet fuel
was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were left there,
after all it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run like a
lizard on a hardwood floor). Economy cruise was something in the
performance book, but no one knew why or where it was. When the overspeed
clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because Boeing/Douglas
built it out of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that sound had the
same effect on real pilots then as Viagra does now for those new age guys.
There was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes or the
Stewardesses' pectoral regions. Airplanes and women had eye pleasing
symetrical curves, not a bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins,
winglets, flow diverters, tatoos, rings in their nose, tongues and
eyebrows.
Airlines were run by men who had built their companies virtually from
scratch, knew many of their employees by name and were lifetime airline
employees themselves...not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flit
from one occupation to another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a
fancier title while fervently believing that they are a class of beings
unto themselves.
And so it was back then....and never will be again.
16 REACTIESIn the age of the 707 / DC8 / 727 / DC9
Those were the good ole days. Pilots back then were men that didn't want
to be women or girlymen. Pilots all knew who Jimmy Doolittle was. Pilots
drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars and didn't wear digital watches.
They carried their own suitcases and brain bags like the real men that
they were. Pilots didn't bend over into the crash position multiple times
each day in front of the passengers at security so that some Gov't agent
could probe for tweezers or fingernail clippers or too much toothpaste.
Pilots did not go through the terminal impersonating a caddy pulling a
bunch of golf clubs, computers, guitars, and feed bags full of tofu and
granola on a sissy-trailer with no hat and granny glasses hanging on a
pink string around their pencil neck while talking to their personal
trainer on the cell phone!!!
Being an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel Brooks
movie. All the Stewardesses (aka.Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the sexual
revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and suck it in to
get through the cockpit door. They would blush and say thank you when told
that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual harrassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men.... with no
thoughts of substitution.
Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite, they could speak AND
understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to loud gangsta
rap on their IPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a rotting pile of
garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops. Children didn't travel alone,
commuting between trailer parks. There were no mongolhordes asking for a
'mu-fuggin' seatbelt extension or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail
with a twist.
If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting jerk off the
airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or getting fired.
Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom and left an
impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft coal. Jet fuel
was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were left there,
after all it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run like a
lizard on a hardwood floor). Economy cruise was something in the
performance book, but no one knew why or where it was. When the overspeed
clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because Boeing/Douglas
built it out of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that sound had the
same effect on real pilots then as Viagra does now for those new age guys.
There was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes or the
Stewardesses' pectoral regions. Airplanes and women had eye pleasing
symetrical curves, not a bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins,
winglets, flow diverters, tatoos, rings in their nose, tongues and
eyebrows.
Airlines were run by men who had built their companies virtually from
scratch, knew many of their employees by name and were lifetime airline
employees themselves...not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flit
from one occupation to another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a
fancier title while fervently believing that they are a class of beings
unto themselves.
And so it was back then....and never will be again.
Jetcap· 5 janAnd so it was back then...and never will be again
My friend in the airline business sent this on………
In the age of the 707 / DC8 / 727 / DC9
Those were the good ole days. Pilots back then were men that didn't want
to be women or girlymen. Pilots all knew who Jimmy Doolittle was. Pilots
drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars and didn't wear digital watches.
They carried their own suitcases and brain bags like the real men that
they were. Pilots didn't bend over into the crash position multiple times
each day in front of the passengers at security so that some Gov't agent
could probe for tweezers or fingernail clippers or too much toothpaste.
Pilots did not go through the terminal impersonating a caddy pulling a
bunch of golf clubs, computers, guitars, and feed bags full of tofu and
granola on a sissy-trailer with no hat and granny glasses hanging on a
pink string around their pencil neck while talking to their personal
trainer on the cell phone!!!
Being an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel Brooks
movie. All the Stewardesses (aka.Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the sexual
revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and suck it in to
get through the cockpit door. They would blush and say thank you when told
that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual harrassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men.... with no
thoughts of substitution.
Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite, they could speak AND
understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to loud gangsta
rap on their IPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a rotting pile of
garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops. Children didn't travel alone,
commuting between trailer parks. There were no mongolhordes asking for a
'mu-fuggin' seatbelt extension or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail
with a twist.
If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting jerk off the
airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or getting fired.
Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom and left an
impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft coal. Jet fuel
was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were left there,
after all it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run like a
lizard on a hardwood floor). Economy cruise was something in the
performance book, but no one knew why or where it was. When the overspeed
clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because Boeing/Douglas
built it out of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that sound had the
same effect on real pilots then as Viagra does now for those new age guys.
There was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes or the
Stewardesses' pectoral regions. Airplanes and women had eye pleasing
symetrical curves, not a bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins,
winglets, flow diverters, tatoos, rings in their nose, tongues and
eyebrows.
Airlines were run by men who had built their companies virtually from
scratch, knew many of their employees by name and were lifetime airline
employees themselves...not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flit
from one occupation to another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a
fancier title while fervently believing that they are a class of beings
unto themselves.
And so it was back then....and never will be again.
My friend in the airline business sent this on………
In the age of the 707 / DC8 / 727 / DC9
Those were the good ole days. Pilots back then were men that didn't want
to be women or girlymen. Pilots all knew who Jimmy Doolittle was. Pilots
drank coffee, whiskey, smoked cigars and didn't wear digital watches.
They carried their own suitcases and brain bags like the real men that
they were. Pilots didn't bend over into the crash position multiple times
each day in front of the passengers at security so that some Gov't agent
could probe for tweezers or fingernail clippers or too much toothpaste.
Pilots did not go through the terminal impersonating a caddy pulling a
bunch of golf clubs, computers, guitars, and feed bags full of tofu and
granola on a sissy-trailer with no hat and granny glasses hanging on a
pink string around their pencil neck while talking to their personal
trainer on the cell phone!!!
Being an Airline Captain was as good as being the King in a Mel Brooks
movie. All the Stewardesses (aka.Flight Attendants) were young,
attractive, single women that were proud to be combatants in the sexual
revolution. They didn't have to turn sideways, grease up and suck it in to
get through the cockpit door. They would blush and say thank you when told
that they looked good, instead of filing a sexual harrassment claim.
Junior Stewardesses shared a room and talked about men.... with no
thoughts of substitution.
Passengers wore nice clothes and were polite, they could speak AND
understand English. They didn't speak gibberish or listen to loud gangsta
rap on their IPods. They bathed and didn't smell like a rotting pile of
garbage in a jogging suit and flip-flops. Children didn't travel alone,
commuting between trailer parks. There were no mongolhordes asking for a
'mu-fuggin' seatbelt extension or a Scotch and grapefruit juice cocktail
with a twist.
If the Captain wanted to throw some offensive, ranting jerk off the
airplane, it was done without any worries of a lawsuit or getting fired.
Axial flow engines crackled with the sound of freedom and left an
impressive black smoke trail like a locomotive burning soft coal. Jet fuel
was cheap and once the throttles were pushed up they were left there,
after all it was the jet age and the idea was to go fast (run like a
lizard on a hardwood floor). Economy cruise was something in the
performance book, but no one knew why or where it was. When the overspeed
clacker went off no one got all tight and scared because Boeing/Douglas
built it out of iron, nothing was going to fall off and that sound had the
same effect on real pilots then as Viagra does now for those new age guys.
There was very little plastic and no composites on the airplanes or the
Stewardesses' pectoral regions. Airplanes and women had eye pleasing
symetrical curves, not a bunch of ugly vortex generators, ventral fins,
winglets, flow diverters, tatoos, rings in their nose, tongues and
eyebrows.
Airlines were run by men who had built their companies virtually from
scratch, knew many of their employees by name and were lifetime airline
employees themselves...not pseudo financiers and bean counters who flit
from one occupation to another for a few bucks, a better parachute or a
fancier title while fervently believing that they are a class of beings
unto themselves.
And so it was back then....and never will be again.
5 jan
49015· 5 jan
Oh-what-ever! I love the magenta line. :D
FMC kaput? No go!!
FMC kaput? No go!!
5 jan
J.I.P· 5 jan@ jetcap...
Die mooie stewardessen hadden toen ook een iets minder mooie bikinilijn... maar voor de rest ben ik het met je eens!! Ik ben 25jr te laat geboren volgens mij. al noemen sommigen mij een neanderthaler..
Die mooie stewardessen hadden toen ook een iets minder mooie bikinilijn... maar voor de rest ben ik het met je eens!! Ik ben 25jr te laat geboren volgens mij. al noemen sommigen mij een neanderthaler..
5 jan
PH-FLY· 5 janDat is vast enkel gebaseerd op je avatar....
5 jan
Phoenix_X· 5 janEentje is toch wel genoeg......
http://www.airwork.nl/bulletinboard/showthread.php?t=9208
http://www.airwork.nl/bulletinboard/showthread.php?t=9208
5 jan
FOLBERTS· 5 janJa maar vroeger was alles beter! ;)
Daarover het volgende verhaaltje :
‘Degenen die dit jaar eindexamen doen ……. Ze kennen maar een Paus. Bovendien kennen ze geen andere minister-president dan Jan Peter Balkenende.
Wie is eigenlijk Ruud Lubbers?
Cola kochten ze altijd al in onverwoestbare plastic flessen. De dop was altijd al van kunststof en niet van metaal. Cola in glazen flessen? En dan maar een liter?
Wat is eigenlijk Ministeck?
Atari is voor de meesten net zo vreemd als grammofoonplaten; die hebben ze nooit gekocht, want de CD-speler werd al uitgevonden voor ze geboren waren.
Ze hebben nooit Pacman gespeeld.
Ze kunnen niet geloven dat er computers waren die je op de televisie kon aansluiten met spelletjes die er niet eens uitzagen als tennis.
Twix heette nog nooit Raider.
Er was nooit een tijd zonder merknamen. Wat is eigenlijk houtje-touwtje?
En waarom zou je neonkleurige kleding aantrekken?
Of bij de schouders kussentjes onder je kleding steken?
Deze generatie heeft nog nooit een televisie met maar drie kanalen gezien.
Om helemaal maar te zwijgen van de zwart-wit televisie.
Bestonden er ook televisies zonder afstandsbediening?
Zij hadden altijd al kabeltelevisie.
De Walkman werd door Sony al voor hun geboorte uitgevonden.
Rolschaatsen hebben alleen rolletjes achter elkaar, niet naast elkaar.
De schoen zit er altijd al aan vast.
Ze kennen geen 'Wedden dat' of de 'Showbizquiz' met Jos Brink.
Wie is eigenlijk Jos Brink?
Ze kennen wel Johan Cruijf.
Dat is een voetbalcommentator.
Degenen die nu achttien zijn hebben bij het zwemmen nog nooit over een grote witte haai nagedacht.
Het maakt ze niet uit wie J.R. neergeschoten heeft want ze weten niet eens wie J.R. is.
Michael Jackson was altijd al blank.
Wie of wat is Milli Vanilli?
Of een lolo-bal?
Gel was er altijd al.
Ze geloven niet dat Adidas-schoenen ooit populairder waren dan Nikes en dat het topmodel maar 99 gulden kostte en zonder luchtkussens gemaakt werd.
Ze weten niet dat je computerprogrammas ook op casettebandjes kunt opslaan en dat je grammofoonplaten omdraaien kunt.
Ze weten niet waarom Niki Lauda altijd een pet op heeft.
De aardige man van Persil kennen ze niet. En wie is Petje Pitamientje?
Of Flipje van de Betuwe te Tiel?
Maar jij weet dat allemaal. Want jij bent oud...’
Daarover het volgende verhaaltje :
‘Degenen die dit jaar eindexamen doen ……. Ze kennen maar een Paus. Bovendien kennen ze geen andere minister-president dan Jan Peter Balkenende.
Wie is eigenlijk Ruud Lubbers?
Cola kochten ze altijd al in onverwoestbare plastic flessen. De dop was altijd al van kunststof en niet van metaal. Cola in glazen flessen? En dan maar een liter?
Wat is eigenlijk Ministeck?
Atari is voor de meesten net zo vreemd als grammofoonplaten; die hebben ze nooit gekocht, want de CD-speler werd al uitgevonden voor ze geboren waren.
Ze hebben nooit Pacman gespeeld.
Ze kunnen niet geloven dat er computers waren die je op de televisie kon aansluiten met spelletjes die er niet eens uitzagen als tennis.
Twix heette nog nooit Raider.
Er was nooit een tijd zonder merknamen. Wat is eigenlijk houtje-touwtje?
En waarom zou je neonkleurige kleding aantrekken?
Of bij de schouders kussentjes onder je kleding steken?
Deze generatie heeft nog nooit een televisie met maar drie kanalen gezien.
Om helemaal maar te zwijgen van de zwart-wit televisie.
Bestonden er ook televisies zonder afstandsbediening?
Zij hadden altijd al kabeltelevisie.
De Walkman werd door Sony al voor hun geboorte uitgevonden.
Rolschaatsen hebben alleen rolletjes achter elkaar, niet naast elkaar.
De schoen zit er altijd al aan vast.
Ze kennen geen 'Wedden dat' of de 'Showbizquiz' met Jos Brink.
Wie is eigenlijk Jos Brink?
Ze kennen wel Johan Cruijf.
Dat is een voetbalcommentator.
Degenen die nu achttien zijn hebben bij het zwemmen nog nooit over een grote witte haai nagedacht.
Het maakt ze niet uit wie J.R. neergeschoten heeft want ze weten niet eens wie J.R. is.
Michael Jackson was altijd al blank.
Wie of wat is Milli Vanilli?
Of een lolo-bal?
Gel was er altijd al.
Ze geloven niet dat Adidas-schoenen ooit populairder waren dan Nikes en dat het topmodel maar 99 gulden kostte en zonder luchtkussens gemaakt werd.
Ze weten niet dat je computerprogrammas ook op casettebandjes kunt opslaan en dat je grammofoonplaten omdraaien kunt.
Ze weten niet waarom Niki Lauda altijd een pet op heeft.
De aardige man van Persil kennen ze niet. En wie is Petje Pitamientje?
Of Flipje van de Betuwe te Tiel?
Maar jij weet dat allemaal. Want jij bent oud...’
5 jan
Surferboy· 5 jan
Ooooow, dus ik ben al oud? (Ken alleen de lolo-bal en Raider niet:D)
5 jan
FOLBERTS· 5 janJa maar Dallas alleen uit de re-run neem ik aan? ;)
5 jan
Peto· 5 jan
Jetcap noemt dingen die vroeger beter waren.
Jij geeft gewoon een opsomming van enkele dingen uit het verleden, al is het daar niet minder vermakelijk om :D
Jij geeft gewoon een opsomming van enkele dingen uit het verleden, al is het daar niet minder vermakelijk om :D
5 jan
turning final· 5 jan
hij is wel goed en leuk!
5 jan
Surferboy· 5 jan
FOLBERTS schreef:Ja maar Dallas alleen uit de re-run neem ik aan? ;)
Hehehe, correct:D En o wacht, gel was er idd altijd al....
5 jan
Jetcap· 7 janOde to the Good New Days
Never has there been a better time to be a pilot.
There was a time when a pilot had to touch the yoke for more than 30 seconds each leg; navigate using paper charts, ADFs, VORs, a clock and a mag compass; and calculate w&b and fuel burn with pen and paper. Thank heaven today all I have to do is load the FMS, put the power levers in the detent, rotate and open my book. My biggest fear today is that my Ipod isn't charged or that the zipper on my backpack gets stuck.
In the past, there were things called Stewardesses. Apparently, in early pilot contracts, the all white-male COCKpit crews demanded a group of beautiful, young, sacrificial virgins to entertain on layovers. Luckily today we are asexual he/shes. We don't criticise a coworker's lousy flying since clearly his/her short commings are due to a broken home, not being a white-male, or our own personnal issues with all nonwhite males. No longer are we forced to complement a coworker's attractiveness. Nor are we required to engage in idle chitchat while dining or sharing a drink. Thankfully, the electronic lock, dead bolt, chain, and that flippy-over-thingy securely sequesters us in our cells during our time off.
Perhaps the best thing of all is that today pilots never have to make decisions. No need for wall to wall counseling for the tardy team member, call crew scheduling. Fuel getting tight or wx deteriorating? Don't risk making a mistake, call dispatch and put their heads in the noose. Have an emergency? Run the checklist and turn off your brain: touching a dusty switch might solve the problem, but the conversation with standards and the FAA is such a hassle.
As good as things are now, just you wait until the dogs make it to the flight deck
Never has there been a better time to be a pilot.
There was a time when a pilot had to touch the yoke for more than 30 seconds each leg; navigate using paper charts, ADFs, VORs, a clock and a mag compass; and calculate w&b and fuel burn with pen and paper. Thank heaven today all I have to do is load the FMS, put the power levers in the detent, rotate and open my book. My biggest fear today is that my Ipod isn't charged or that the zipper on my backpack gets stuck.
In the past, there were things called Stewardesses. Apparently, in early pilot contracts, the all white-male COCKpit crews demanded a group of beautiful, young, sacrificial virgins to entertain on layovers. Luckily today we are asexual he/shes. We don't criticise a coworker's lousy flying since clearly his/her short commings are due to a broken home, not being a white-male, or our own personnal issues with all nonwhite males. No longer are we forced to complement a coworker's attractiveness. Nor are we required to engage in idle chitchat while dining or sharing a drink. Thankfully, the electronic lock, dead bolt, chain, and that flippy-over-thingy securely sequesters us in our cells during our time off.
Perhaps the best thing of all is that today pilots never have to make decisions. No need for wall to wall counseling for the tardy team member, call crew scheduling. Fuel getting tight or wx deteriorating? Don't risk making a mistake, call dispatch and put their heads in the noose. Have an emergency? Run the checklist and turn off your brain: touching a dusty switch might solve the problem, but the conversation with standards and the FAA is such a hassle.
As good as things are now, just you wait until the dogs make it to the flight deck
7 jan
Exit· 7 jan
FOLBERTS schreef:Jdat je grammofoonplaten ’
.........da zijn van die grote zwarte cd's toch?
Wanhoopt niet , vrinden : Air India geeft het goede voorbeeld:grijns:
Soon they shall be calling us "Sir" again.
7 jan
bbastienne· 13 jan
FOLBERTS schreef:
Maar jij weet dat allemaal. Want jij bent oud...’
moet ik maar heel snel een plekkie gaan reserveren in het bejaardenhuis....
13 jan
von Richthofen· 13 janTja, elk nadeel heb z'n voordeel. Doet me denken aan iets wat ik jaren geleden in een Engels tijdschrift las:
"Our generation put a man on the moon" sounds so different to
"Our generation has no idea how to programme the VCR"
"Our generation put a man on the moon" sounds so different to
"Our generation has no idea how to programme the VCR"
13 jan
peut· 13 janFOLBERTS schreef:................................
Daarover het volgende verhaaltje :
.........................
Wie is eigenlijk Jos Brink?
.............................................
Tja daar hebben de jonkies wel weer mazzel dan !:D
13 jan