In the old days,
you could sit
next to the galley
& get really juiced.
Pretty stewardesses
would slip
you small bottles
of fire water &
you could live large
in any seat.
And you could
actually relax,
talk with the pilot &
eat some grand meals.
Oh, did I forget to say
that check-in
was a breeze,
if you sneezed,
they said,
"God Bless You."
But now
they ain't playing games,
it seems stress has taken over.
How insane,
we're questioned
about our first born
& where we come from,
prodded & searched,
4 ounces of this,
4 ounces of that,
is all the liquid
that they allow.
Holy cow,
no nail clippers
& you can't even quip,
'cause they're not smiling.
O Jesus, I miss
those good old days,
back when flying was fun
& now they **** with all of us,
to keep a few terrorists on the run.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
In the old days,
you could sit
next to the galley
& get really juiced.
Pretty stewardesses
would slip
you small bottles
of fire water &
you could live large
in any seat.
And you could
actually relax,
talk with the pilot &
eat some grand meals.
Oh, did I forget to say
that check-in
was a breeze,
if you sneezed,
they said,
"God Bless You."
But now
they ain't playing games,
it seems stress has taken over.
How insane,
we're questioned
about our first born
& where we come from,
prodded & searched,
4 ounces of this,
4 ounces of that,
is all the liquid
that they allow.
Holy cow,
no nail clippers
& you can't even quip,
'cause they're not smiling.
O Jesus, I miss
those good old days,
back when flying was fun
& now they **** with all of us,
to keep a few terrorists on the run.
Request permission to use this poem