PhB daydream:
It's a cool, late-August afternoon, and a light wind is wafting across tarmac at the small executive airstrip, surrounded by cornfields, just west of DesMoines.
Sitting on the ramp is this gleaming, white, mantis-like Beechcraft Starship, its polished pusher propellers glinting in the sunlight, and its dancing Calypso-colored ribbons of pin-striping suggesting ports-of-call like Jamaica, Bimini, Barbados, and Cancun.
Upon closer inspection, the words John M. Hollen, Chief Pilot have been scripted in chrome along the bottom of the left-side cockpit window - similar in style to the "..eConnect.." on each side of the fusalage.
Laptop slung over my left shoulder, and briefcase in hand; I look down, open my right hand, and there's the key to the operating handle on the air-stair doorway into the sumptuous executive main cabin.
Last thought as I slide into the left seat on the flight deck; "..Beats the hell out of designing machines, and debating pick-&-place routines with uncooperative robots..........."
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