My Pilot, The Salesman

You know what worries me about flying? Okay, that's not really a fair question, because literally everything worries me about flying: the wheels-up noise, the turbulence, the cranky movie monitor, the fat guy walking to the back of the plane, everything.

But you know what really worries me about flying? When you get close to your destination, and the pilot starts talking on the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We're just about to begin our decent into Seattle. Local time is 7:43 PM, weather conditions are partly cloudy and 55 degrees, and winds are 10-15 knots out of the southwest. As I prepare to take your life in my hands and attempt to wrestle this lumbering hippopotamus back to the ground with anything resembling a controlled descent, I'd really appreciate your help with something. Your flight attendants will be coming through the cabin with credit card applications, and I'm really hoping that each and every one of you 112 passengers will think long and hard about filling one out. See, they pay us 10 bucks for every one of those bad boys. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Don't pilots make pretty good money?' and yeah, I guess we do. But times are hard on everyone these days and booze and cheap women cost a lot more than they used to. Plus I'm in to Vinnie the thumb removal specialist for 10 large, and I wouldn't be real good at landing an airplane without my thumbs, now would I? If I don't at least think I've got a chance of paying this thing off, I might just decide that life isn't worth living. I know you good people wouldn't want to see that happen, so just take the application, put pen to paper, and let's all get home to our families, 'k'? Besides, the cards have a really cool picture of an airplane on them. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the landing. We know you have many options when choosing an airline, and we appreciate you choosing ours."