A George Carlin Classic on Combat PTSD
Back in my flight attendant days, I generally bid to work the first class cabin. Not only were there fewer seats giving you fewer mouths to feed and water in that section of the plane, every so often you'd get to mix and mingle with some of the greatest (and worst) and/or famous (and infamous) people on the planet.
I met Muhammad Ali this way and Jonas Salk. Lady Bird Johnson, Pele, Walter Payton and Jesse Jackson. Billy Joel, Bobby Vinton, Cheap Trick, Amy Grant, Dream Theater, Ozzy Osbourne, Daryl Hall, Smokey Robinson. Oprah Winfrey, Weird Al Yankovich, Lee Majors, Anita Hill. The Toronto Blue Jays immediately after they won the World Series. Morley Safer, Bill Wallace, Lesley Stahl, Ed Bradley...the 60 Minutes gang on separate flights and times.
Frankly, I crossed paths with so many over my 15-year career that I can't even remember all of them anymore. And, looking at the brief list of names above, I can see I'm dating myself. Now you hardly ever see a meal even in first class, and even rarer still are celebrity sightings -- many fly on their own (or shared) leased aircraft these days if at all possible.
But back in my day, one celeb that I kept running into (not one, not two, but three separate times during my career) on my flights from Chicago to New York City was comedian George Carlin. He always had the same vibe on board as he has on stage (I've seen him there, too): a little rough around the edges, a compelling if no nonsense figure, mischievously witty and sharp as a tack.
And always, always a bit annoyed.
Carlin is known for his colorful delivery and razor-sharp examination of the English language -- and the humans who use and abuse it -- in all of its quirky wonder. Here's a classic bit (fortunately, a Sunday morning-friendly passage) on combat PTSD, a selection called 'Euphemisms' from his Explicit Lyrics CD.