On the way home
from Arizona on February 26th 2013, I sat
in the second row. As the plane began to take off the stewardess
began to give directions waving her hands and doing the double
crossed wrists demonstrating the exits. The demo for the seat
belt was a bit hard for her as her nails were so long they
impeded her ability to close the seat belt. Then as I watched the
fiasco of the Oxygen mask and her fumbling to get the small
elastic straps between her fingers, I began to worry. I wrote this
little poem to address my concerns.
in the second row. As the plane began to take off the stewardess
began to give directions waving her hands and doing the double
crossed wrists demonstrating the exits. The demo for the seat
belt was a bit hard for her as her nails were so long they
impeded her ability to close the seat belt. Then as I watched the
fiasco of the Oxygen mask and her fumbling to get the small
elastic straps between her fingers, I began to worry. I wrote this
little poem to address my concerns.
No Code!
I heard the nails go clickety-clack
And shuddered to think of a heart attack
Should the girl giving the demo and wearing
the wings
Do CPR on a passenger while wearing those
things?
Could she save my life in manufactured talons?
I think not! More likely she’d end up a
fugitive felon
She could puncture a lung or probably
something worse
Hey, I’ll take my chances; Stop Her! I’ll
end up in a hearse
