Darius “D.B.” Swayde grew up dirt poor in Hardscrabble, Texas, a white, trailer trash community. “As kids we amused ourselves by taping two cats tails together and tossing them over a clothesline. Them cats hung by their tails on either side of that line and tore each other up. My dad near beat me to death when he found out we were doing that, and we used our own pet cat. That cat near died.”
D.B.’s sharper than a tack, but he talks 1-ah-k t-h-i-s, a lazy drawl, coming across as slow farm-boy….watch your wallet.
D.B. supported himself, and his youthful flying habit, by playing drums in a rock and roll band, and doing crop-dusting, lying to the planes’ owners about his flying experience… “shit man, if you survived, you knew a little more!”
Hired at a young age by Texas International (eventually to become Continental Airlines), D.B. was a Co-Pilot. “Man, felt lahk I’d cut a tall hog high on the ass!”
Darry and his Captain, another Texan, often flew turns, Houston to Guatemala City and back. Day after day, same guys, same route, and, it seemed, the same crew of Flight Attendants in the back.
One morning, down in the operations room, they’re going over their preflight paperwork, checking the weather, their fuel requirements, and the NOTAMS, (Notices to Airmen) describing anything out of the ordinary. Normally they are re-fueled at the gate in Guatemala City, before taking on their Latino load of passengers bound for Houston. Today’s NOTAMS indicate a change in the normal fuel operation. Instead of refueling at the gate down there, they must taxi empty over to the other side of the field, refuel, then return to the original gate and pick up their passengers. Also mentioned are fires and smoke close by the airport. Piles of tires and trash are being disposed of by the City. About half way down to Guatemala, these two miscreant pilots look at each other, smile and hatch a scheme.
There are three flight attendants working in the back of their DC-9. D.B. and his Captain call up their Senior Momma, the head flight attendant, and soberly explain that they’ve just been notified by Air Traffic Control there’s a revolution going on in Guatemala, the rebels have the airport surrounded, and the airport is under siege.
Since they’ve passed the ETP (equal time point), the point of no return, they must continue on to Guatemala City. “We’ve got no choice but to go on and land.”
They instruct her to get the passengers off as quickly as possible, once at the gate…."and then we’re just going to get out of Dodge.” Then they want the flight attendants to slam the door, get down on their bellies under the seats, and keep their heads down. Our two hero pilots will get them the hell out of Guatemala City, hopefully before the rebels have taken the airport and shot up the plane! “Don’t worry, we’ve both been in combat before.” She goes rushing out of the cockpit.
As expected, not two minutes later, all three flight attendants are crowded inside the cockpit. They’ve been briefed by the senior flight attendant. They are fearful, but they know what to do. The pilots are busy, but allow the girls to stay in the cockpit on descent, and as they get in range, they point out the smokey fire-fights and the rebel locations, surrounding the airport. The girls are fascinated, and scared shit-less.
Landing smoothly and pulling quickly up to the gate, the Captain yells back, “ OK, get ‘em off, get em off!”
The flight attendants stampede their passengers out the door. D.B. hollers out, “Close it up! Close it up! Now get down! Get down under them seats!”
The three flight attendants, scrunched down on their bellies beneath the seats, are crying their eyes out. The two pilots behind the closed cockpit door are crying too, while laughing hysterically as they taxi across the field to get refueled for the trip back to Houston.
Fifteen minutes later, when the truth comes out, the remainder of the flight is taken up with vigorous oral sex between the pilots and flight attendants.
“Fuck you, Darius!”
“No, fuck you! “