Flying a jumbo jet isn’t easy. I assume that’s the case, at any rate; I haven’t actually done it myself. And I certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable trying it without a fair amount of training — you know, a few thousand hours logged on smaller craft. I’d be an idiot otherwise.

Well, I’ve been on this flight for a long time now. There’s been some turbulence every once and a while, but it was nothing the other passengers and I couldn’t handle. The real problem turned out to be that half the people on board had been wanting to go to Atlanta all along. (We’d been heading for New York.) There was quite a disturbance when that came to light.

I don’t know how I would have handled it if I’d been on the flight crew. It was pretty alarming how the mob rose up and demanded a new pilot. They wanted one of their own, someone who was passionate about traveling to Atlanta, I guess. And there were several to choose from — people who’d flown smaller planes or served on flight crews. All of them were quite eager to try their hand at the controls, and I suppose that they might have done a decent job.

But for some reason, the mob went with the monkey. (I don’t know how he got on the plane in the first place.) There was nothing in his appearance to make anyone think he might be able to fly a plane. But he put on the best show, even causing me to laugh a few times. One by one, he disposed of the other would-be pilots. He stuffed one in an overhead bin; ripped the balls off another; and peed in yet another one’s face.

All along, I was thinking, “Obviously, we’re not going to let the monkey fly the plane.”

But suddenly, the monkey was the only contender left. At this point, I felt sure that everyone would agree to let the current pilot go ahead and take us to New York. I mean, yeah, it would be a little extra trouble for the passengers who really wanted to go to Atlanta, but surely that was the only reasonable thing to do now. I conferred with the people around me, and it seemed that we were all in agreement on the matter. That was what would happen.

And so I was shocked when the mob proceeded to carry the monkey up to the cockpit and put him at the controls. You should have seen the expressions on their faces. They were so happy to be going where they wanted at last. With shouts of jubilation, they closed the cockpit door, leaving the monkey in charge of this frighteningly powerful craft, laden with the souls of who knows how many people.

And here we are now. As the mob continues rejoicing, I sit alone in silent fear. Nothing has happened yet, but I feel pretty sure we’re never going to make it to Atlanta — to say nothing of New York.

Join Henry Rambow on Twitter: @HenryRambow