Climb Into The Cockpit Of Your Dream Job: Alaskan Bush Pilot

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1859

Abstract

at I need is for you to make fake engine noises with your mouth. Purse your lips together, pretend you’re playing the tuba. Louder. There you go. It’ll keep you busy and keep me calm while I hopefully restart the engine.</p><p id="e2e9">By now you probably noticed that your seat feels like a box of ice cream sandwiches and your seat belt resembles a large pepperoni pizza. That’s because you’re sitting on a box of ice cream sandwiches and holding a pepperoni pizza on your lap. Our first delivery today will be to airdrop that stuff at Karl’s cabin. This is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call an ice cream sandwich and pizza pie resupply — the backbone of the Bush Pilot business.</p><p id="7aec">Isn’t this heaven? Just the way you imagined when you quit your desk job?</p><p id="e5fe">We’re coming up on Karl’s cabin, let’s see if you can get everything out the door in one pass. Use that shotgun to prop the door open, it’s probably unloaded. Try to hit the outhouse, Karl hates that.</p><p id="584a">Not bad, Cheech! Almost hit the shitter! You ready to take a spin over Ma’s compound? Ma’s compound is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call my mother’s house. Ma likes when I fly by and rock the wings to say hi, plus she’s running low on Crown Royal and chainsaw oil.</p><p id="1ed0">To get to Ma’s just leave Karl’s cabin and point towards Denali. Fly until Journey’s “Any Way You Want It<i>” </i>starts playing on the Walkman then turn left. Follow the river that looks like a soggy Twizzler to the lake that looks like an old ski boot and you’re there. This method of precise navigation only works if you hit play on the Caddyshack soundtrack <i>exactly</i> at liftoff.</p><p id="a2bf">After Ma’s, it’s on to the Johnson place. The Johnson place is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call the family of grizzlies we illegally feed the salmon flopping around in t

Options

he cooler behind you. Normally I wouldn’t bring a cheechako to the Johnson place but a little voice inside tells me you’re ready to put that app-development job behind you and toss a half-dead salmon out of a moving airplane into the mouth of a grizzly bear.</p><p id="52a9">If you only remember one thing I teach you about flying today make sure it’s this — DO NOT drop a king salmon inside a flying airplane. When those slippery sons-a-bitches get to squirming by the rudder pedals, things get hairy in a heartbeat. Of course they’re big, they’re king salmon — chinooks we call ’em. See if you can hold two. Slide your fingers in the gills. Hurry up, Ms. Johnson must be famished —</p><p id="e294">Tuba. TUBA! TUBA!!! Phew. Close one!!!</p><p id="d55f">Listen, just cause you’re halfway out the door with a chinook in each hand doesn’t mean you can’t give me your best tuba. I expect better next time. Now toss those fish, flip the tape to side B, and let’s get back to Anchorage — we’ve got a lot more ice cream and pizza to deliver today. Welcome to your dream job and give me a slice of that pepperoni —</p><p id="0f44">TUBAAAA!!!!!!!</p><p id="2925"><b><i>Read More Slackjaw Humor Writing Challenge Winners:</i></b></p><div id="1ce9" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/slackjaw-humor-writing-challenge-2021-the-winners-fa5a164c3ae"> <div> <div> <h2>Slackjaw Humor Writing Challenge 2021: The Winners</h2> <div><h3>All winners from the 2021 Challenge…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*C0zXaEDMAy8OMd6amUPDiw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Use that shotgun to prop the door open, it’s probably unloaded.

As my co-pilot, your first official duty will be to press play on the Sony Walkman duct-taped to the door beside you. Not yet. Wait until we’re about to lift off. Right… now. Not bad, cheechako.

Cheechako is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call a rookie, a greenhorn, someone new to Alaska. Seems like there have been a lot of you tech-worker cheechakos around lately, chasing the bush pilot dream. Last one refused to get in my plane, though. Not sure why.

Now that we’re in the air, let’s go over some basics. See those empty holes on the panel in front of you? That’s where the flight instruments go. Flight instruments tell you things like altitude and airspeed and can be sold for gas money in a pinch.

Let’s talk safety.

Any Alaskan Bush Pilot worth their salt is always looking for a place to crash. See that lake? Great place to crash. See that straight stretch in the river? Really nice place to crash. See that big bend followed by the rapids? Totally crashable.

I say this because when the engine dies today, and it will, I don’t need you panicking and I don’t need you pointing out crash sites, what I need is for you to make fake engine noises with your mouth. Purse your lips together, pretend you’re playing the tuba. Louder. There you go. It’ll keep you busy and keep me calm while I hopefully restart the engine.

By now you probably noticed that your seat feels like a box of ice cream sandwiches and your seat belt resembles a large pepperoni pizza. That’s because you’re sitting on a box of ice cream sandwiches and holding a pepperoni pizza on your lap. Our first delivery today will be to airdrop that stuff at Karl’s cabin. This is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call an ice cream sandwich and pizza pie resupply — the backbone of the Bush Pilot business.

Isn’t this heaven? Just the way you imagined when you quit your desk job?

We’re coming up on Karl’s cabin, let’s see if you can get everything out the door in one pass. Use that shotgun to prop the door open, it’s probably unloaded. Try to hit the outhouse, Karl hates that.

Not bad, Cheech! Almost hit the shitter! You ready to take a spin over Ma’s compound? Ma’s compound is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call my mother’s house. Ma likes when I fly by and rock the wings to say hi, plus she’s running low on Crown Royal and chainsaw oil.

To get to Ma’s just leave Karl’s cabin and point towards Denali. Fly until Journey’s “Any Way You Want It” starts playing on the Walkman then turn left. Follow the river that looks like a soggy Twizzler to the lake that looks like an old ski boot and you’re there. This method of precise navigation only works if you hit play on the Caddyshack soundtrack exactly at liftoff.

After Ma’s, it’s on to the Johnson place. The Johnson place is what we Alaskan Bush Pilots call the family of grizzlies we illegally feed the salmon flopping around in the cooler behind you. Normally I wouldn’t bring a cheechako to the Johnson place but a little voice inside tells me you’re ready to put that app-development job behind you and toss a half-dead salmon out of a moving airplane into the mouth of a grizzly bear.

If you only remember one thing I teach you about flying today make sure it’s this — DO NOT drop a king salmon inside a flying airplane. When those slippery sons-a-bitches get to squirming by the rudder pedals, things get hairy in a heartbeat. Of course they’re big, they’re king salmon — chinooks we call ’em. See if you can hold two. Slide your fingers in the gills. Hurry up, Ms. Johnson must be famished —

Tuba. TUBA! TUBA!!! Phew. Close one!!!

Listen, just cause you’re halfway out the door with a chinook in each hand doesn’t mean you can’t give me your best tuba. I expect better next time. Now toss those fish, flip the tape to side B, and let’s get back to Anchorage — we’ve got a lot more ice cream and pizza to deliver today. Welcome to your dream job and give me a slice of that pepperoni —

TUBAAAA!!!!!!!

Read More Slackjaw Humor Writing Challenge Winners: