What do you get when you cross a go-kart with a fanboat with a parachute? I don’t know, but it’s kinda awesome. I’m not so sure about the hybrid ceiling fan/backpack/parasail. You have to admit it would be great for trimming tall hedges. Anyway, we’re foursquare in favor of standing around clutching beers and nodding approvingly while other people risk death, dismemberment, and sunburn.
Sometimes being the life of the party is daunting. When interesting conversation isn’t cutting it anymore, you either have to bring a lot of booze, or throw yourself into the pool unexpectedly. If you’re really having trouble getting noticed by the fine chicas poolside, you can always try driving your car into the pool. Driving a car into the pool can be expensive, however, so most people stick to throwing themselves in, or maybe a rattlesnake or a baby alligator or something. Of course you can base jump into the pool from a nearby skyscraper if you can’t afford a case of beer. However, if it’s your first base jump, experts advise that you wear an adult diaper. No one except Bill Murray will think you’re cool if they find a Baby Ruth in the pool.
It’s okay, you only need one hand to fly anyway. One hand to fly the plane, and you use the other one to pull chicks. It’s common knowledge.
From what I can see, it doesn’t seem like this fellow is wearing a parachute. I’m all for living on the edge, but I always took that expression figuratively. I suppose he’s not really that high up. If he landed just right, maybe they could harvest his organs. I’m not sure the form at the organ donor place has a check box for “glider pilot,” but there must be someone, somewhere who need a gently dropped kidney or something.
We’re paying attention to the choppah pilot and the boat, as is appropriate, of course, but let’s take a moment to consider: The Man With the Flags. We could call him the Landing Signal Officer, but where’s the fun in that? He’s The Man With the Flags to us. It’s much jauntier, don’t you think?
I don’t think it would be a very pleasant place to stand, that spot that The Man With the Flags stands in. The pilot at least has a windshield between him and Armageddon. The boat captain is wearing a very big suit of armor indeed. But The Man With the Flags is just out there in his uni, waving his arms around and muttering to himself like a man with Tourette’s, hoping that dang flier doesn’t sneeze at an inopportune moment and send The Man With the Flags into an improvised heli-patrolboat cuisinart.
Here’s to you, Man With the Flags. We salute you! But don’t salute back just now, or Orville will ditch it in the Atlantic and you’ll get busted back to swabbie.