This is the most I've laughed since the Milk Man Chronicles... I guess I'll add to the fun:

...while waiting at the gate for your bird to arrive inbound, you know to review your Dx paperwork someplace OTHER than the very convenient counter at the gate, for fear of the usual questioning.

...when you still roll the dice and utilize the gate counter, your peripheral vision can see them approaching from 50 yards away. You conveniently perpetuate a convincing facial expression to justify making a dash to the jet way and waiting it out until the coast is clear or a gate agent arrives.

...when commuting, you prefer taking the jumpseat over the last cabin seat to avoid contact with too many immune system threats. The crew understands and welcomes you... usually.

...following a subpar landing you're somewhat embarrased about, once blocked in at the gate, you take as long as possible to run the shutdown checklist, clean up all your cockpit trash scattered around, empty your spitter, finish an earlier discussion with the other pilot, review anything that seems pertinent, and even check the peephole to assure all have disembarked and any negative pax commentary on your landing is avoided; the cockpit door stays closed until this is assured. The FAs understand why.

...you feel you have the greatest landing ever and secretly look forward to a multitude of "nice landing" complements to boost your feeble pilot ego, only to not receive even one.

...you hammer one on and still get a "nice landing" complement, but secretly wonder if they meant it or were just sarcastically messing with you.

...you know the "Happy Birthday" prank.



I'm sure I'll think of more as this current stint of RSV presses on...