HOW MUCH SHOULD I TIP THE PILOT
#287
Joined: Apr 2006
Posts: 1,060
Likes: 0
Are you suggesting flashers should be tipped?
..or snipped perhaps.
BTW, I send this article
http://tinyurl.com/yg7aurd
with absolutely no comment.
..or snipped perhaps.
BTW, I send this article
http://tinyurl.com/yg7aurd
with absolutely no comment.
#288
Joined: Sep 2008
Posts: 2,911
Likes: 0
I hope you all don't mind if I add a less amusing note to this hilarious thread.
I actually do tip the pilot if he is standing by the port door as I exit. My tip is a verbal "Good job" or "Nice flight." They always appreciate it. Everyone appreciates a compliment for a task well done but it is so rare in our society of take it for granted life. I also thank the flight attendants on my way out and wish them a nice day. It costs nothing but is worth a million.
Pass it on. What goes around comes around.
I actually do tip the pilot if he is standing by the port door as I exit. My tip is a verbal "Good job" or "Nice flight." They always appreciate it. Everyone appreciates a compliment for a task well done but it is so rare in our society of take it for granted life. I also thank the flight attendants on my way out and wish them a nice day. It costs nothing but is worth a million.
Pass it on. What goes around comes around.
#289
Joined: Oct 2009
Posts: 1
Likes: 0
Hola from… where the hell am I today?… Oh yeah, Bolivia.
Cripes…. is that right? Let me think…
Yeah, Bolivia. Me and Senor Pisco, back in this flea bitten flophouse. At the airport next door some guys claiming to be A & P mechanics are tearing apart an engine that's older than my ex-wife's first face lift. We're talking Viejo here. Apparently I sucked a bird yesterday on short final and this bucket of bolts I'm driving is furniture until they can fix the bent bits and scrape the feathers off, so I can fly to the next godforsaken stop on this trip, with a bunch of don't-ask-don't-tell boxes in the back. They'll probably have to get some pieces from one of the boneyards up in the desert someplace.
No tips from the cargo I'm hauling these days. Last time I flew self-loading cargo the only tip I thought I might get was from one of the honking knives they had strapped on their belts. Guerillas on spring break, I guess. Whatever. Enjoy your jungle, amigos.
What's it been… three years since Wings of Warsaw went tango uniform? Four? No, it must be more than that.
I hear there's a recession going on back in the world. Lots of layoffs in the majors, and even the low-cost outfits in Europe are folding, or else they have to break even by hitting the schnooks for twenty bucks to check a bag to Benidorm.
The kids are growing up. They have these FaceSpace page things where I can see what they look like, and I guess their stepfather still has his job with that bank or bookie joint, whichever it is. Probably drinks light beer and drives a Hummer. Livin' large.
Me? I'm still flying, at least when the airplane is willing. Lots of short strips, density altitude, private customers with made-up names. Not my business, I'm just the driver. Pay the man and buckle up. Or not. If you want to leave a tip, put it in the coffee can in the head. Cash only, no credit cards or packets of powder, please.
Crud, now I need another bottle of Pisco. Hasta luego.
Cripes…. is that right? Let me think…
Yeah, Bolivia. Me and Senor Pisco, back in this flea bitten flophouse. At the airport next door some guys claiming to be A & P mechanics are tearing apart an engine that's older than my ex-wife's first face lift. We're talking Viejo here. Apparently I sucked a bird yesterday on short final and this bucket of bolts I'm driving is furniture until they can fix the bent bits and scrape the feathers off, so I can fly to the next godforsaken stop on this trip, with a bunch of don't-ask-don't-tell boxes in the back. They'll probably have to get some pieces from one of the boneyards up in the desert someplace.
No tips from the cargo I'm hauling these days. Last time I flew self-loading cargo the only tip I thought I might get was from one of the honking knives they had strapped on their belts. Guerillas on spring break, I guess. Whatever. Enjoy your jungle, amigos.
What's it been… three years since Wings of Warsaw went tango uniform? Four? No, it must be more than that.
I hear there's a recession going on back in the world. Lots of layoffs in the majors, and even the low-cost outfits in Europe are folding, or else they have to break even by hitting the schnooks for twenty bucks to check a bag to Benidorm.
The kids are growing up. They have these FaceSpace page things where I can see what they look like, and I guess their stepfather still has his job with that bank or bookie joint, whichever it is. Probably drinks light beer and drives a Hummer. Livin' large.
Me? I'm still flying, at least when the airplane is willing. Lots of short strips, density altitude, private customers with made-up names. Not my business, I'm just the driver. Pay the man and buckle up. Or not. If you want to leave a tip, put it in the coffee can in the head. Cash only, no credit cards or packets of powder, please.
Crud, now I need another bottle of Pisco. Hasta luego.





