[Written yesterday, mid-air.]
My peak experience, commercial flyingwise, occurred when I was in Vietnam. (For that matter, the same is true for non-commercial flying: seeing tracer bullets arising from the jungle to my low-flying gooney bird was bracing; as was hearing ground control call out bandits at our six o’clock while riding in a flying gas tank over Haiphong Harbor. But those are stories for another day.)
Well, we lost the war. I don’t suppose we deserve anything better.