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I need help with something that I’m sure this crowd of aviation experts can handle. There’s a story, see, and I… Well, I’ll get it started and maybe you can lend me a hand.
The way it starts is, everyone has to take a checkride now and again.
Even Santa.
So, one Christmas Eve, and as everyone knows, it’s always very busy for Santa on Christmas Eve, anyway, one Christmas Eve, Santa notices a guy in a plain gray suit standing outside the door to the toy factory at the North Pole. The man is holding a clipboard in one hand and a duffel bag in the other, and he has a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses peeking out of the breast pocket of the suit.
Santa strokes his fluffy white beard and asks, “May I help you?”
“Mr. Claus?” the man asks, setting down the duffel bag and reaching inside his suit coat and withdrawing a ball point pen.
“You got it on the first guess,” says Santa. “You must have been a very good boy.”
The man starts writing on his clipboard and without looking up, he says, “I’m Barnes Happybottom from the FAA, and I’m here for your checkride in that sleigh out on the ramp there.”
“Oh Oh Oh,” says Santa. “This is a very busy time for me, you know. I have to make a lot of deliveries tonight. Can’t we do this in a day or two?”
“Sorry. Has to be today. Only take about half an hour,” says Happybottom, still filling in boxes on the paper on his clipboard. “You’ll want to have at least eight reindeer in the traces, and I’ll need to look over the airwothiness certificate and all the other usual paperwork.”
“Oh Oh Oh, gimme just a couple of minutes,” says Santa. “Need any hot cocoa?”
“Maybe later.”
Santa gets some elves to put the reindeer into position, and he settles into the left seat, and Happybottom sits on the right with his clipboard and bag, and gives Santa a nod, and Santa sighs a tired sigh and gives the reins a halfhearted shake and says, ‘On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen! On…” and just then he sees Happybottom pull something from the duffel bag, and it looks quite a lot like a Remington Model 870 pump action 12-gauge shotgun. “What are you doing?” Santa asks.
And I just… can’t quite… remember the rest of the story. That’s what I need your help with.
The way it starts is, everyone has to take a checkride now and again.
Even Santa.
So, one Christmas Eve, and as everyone knows, it’s always very busy for Santa on Christmas Eve, anyway, one Christmas Eve, Santa notices a guy in a plain gray suit standing outside the door to the toy factory at the North Pole. The man is holding a clipboard in one hand and a duffel bag in the other, and he has a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses peeking out of the breast pocket of the suit.
Santa strokes his fluffy white beard and asks, “May I help you?”
“Mr. Claus?” the man asks, setting down the duffel bag and reaching inside his suit coat and withdrawing a ball point pen.
“You got it on the first guess,” says Santa. “You must have been a very good boy.”
The man starts writing on his clipboard and without looking up, he says, “I’m Barnes Happybottom from the FAA, and I’m here for your checkride in that sleigh out on the ramp there.”
“Oh Oh Oh,” says Santa. “This is a very busy time for me, you know. I have to make a lot of deliveries tonight. Can’t we do this in a day or two?”
“Sorry. Has to be today. Only take about half an hour,” says Happybottom, still filling in boxes on the paper on his clipboard. “You’ll want to have at least eight reindeer in the traces, and I’ll need to look over the airwothiness certificate and all the other usual paperwork.”
“Oh Oh Oh, gimme just a couple of minutes,” says Santa. “Need any hot cocoa?”
“Maybe later.”
Santa gets some elves to put the reindeer into position, and he settles into the left seat, and Happybottom sits on the right with his clipboard and bag, and gives Santa a nod, and Santa sighs a tired sigh and gives the reins a halfhearted shake and says, ‘On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen! On…” and just then he sees Happybottom pull something from the duffel bag, and it looks quite a lot like a Remington Model 870 pump action 12-gauge shotgun. “What are you doing?” Santa asks.
And I just… can’t quite… remember the rest of the story. That’s what I need your help with.
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