"That's not flying, that's falling in style" -- Disney's Toy Story
LIFE imitating art -- if you look around carefully, chances are that you will stumble upon something that fits this mold.
These bizarre coincidences seem to crop up around me at the strangest times. This particular example begins with Michael Crichton's 1996 novel Airframe which I read a fortnight ago.
Airframe, told in Crichton's inimitable combination of fact and fiction, deals with an imaginary American aircraft company, Norton, negotiating a large sale of intercontinental jets to the People's Republic of China.
Norton's aircraft are technically of a very high standard, but the company lacks the market share of Boeing, is not doing too well and needs the order to survive. Across the pond, the European Community, which has a vested interest in its own manufacturing industry, wages a political propaganda campaign to thwart Norton.
Nevertheless, the deal seems pretty much under control until an accident happens.
A Norton aircraft -- the same model sought by the Chinese -- en route to the US from Asia suddenly goes into free fall. Passengers not strapped in are tossed about the cabin like ice cubes in a cocktail shaker.
When the plane is finally brought under control, the dead and injured lie scattered about the cabin. A passenger has videotaped the chaos.
But let's put the accident on hold for a few minutes and hop back into the real world.
It's July 1997, the year following the appearance of Airframe. The technically advanced McDonnell Douglas Corporation is floundering under a dearth of orders and lacks the market share of rival Boeing.
Hong Kong has reverted to Chinese rule. The Chinese are cash-flush, and known to be in the market for a large number of intercontinental jets. The Europeans are quite determined to secure the order.
Back in the US, McDonnell Douglas shareholders throw in the towel. They approve a merger with rival Boeing to create the world's largest aircraft manufacturer.
After much protesting, the Europeans ratify the deal.
October 1997. Chinese premier Jiang Zemin visits the US where an obsequious Bill Clinton welcomes him. By the time he leaves, the Chinese have agreed to buy 50 new aircraft from the new Boeing for US $3-billion.
December 1997. A Boeing aircraft -- a United Airlines 747, one of the models ordered by the Chinese -- en route to the US from Asia suddenly goes into free fall. Passengers not strapped in are tossed about the cabin like ice cubes in a cocktail shaker.
When the plane is finally brought under control, the dead and injured lie scattered about the cabin. A passenger has videotaped the chaos.
Now, if you're as confused as I am at this point as to which of these tales is real, let me point out a few things:
The Chinese do have enough cash to buy 50 jets for US $3-billion. This is because a billion people simply have to pay an extra $3 per person in tax to generate that sort of money.
The Cubans do not have US $3-billion in cash. If they did, perhaps Boeing would campaign on their behalf too.
But the Cubans do have warm sunny beaches, hot-blooded natives, and Cuba Librés -- which is perhaps why European businessmen chartered a Concorde to that island this week.
Regular flights between Cuba and France are to begin in the near future.
The Tibetans do not have US $3-billion.
They do not have warm sunny beaches either. They do have tsampa, tea flavoured with rancid yak butter, and celibate monks. None of these has a high market value.
An unpowered 747 has the gliding properties of a block of concrete. Still, flying is a lot safer than driving. In both cases, your chances of survival are substantially enhanced if you wear your seat belt.