We writers love metaphors and similes. They allow us to paint word pictures which can clarify an otherwise difficult concept.

So I hope you’ll bear with me when I postulate that political candidates are like airplane pilots.

Permit me to clarify.

Last winter when returning from a Caribbean vacation on a tiny but sensuous island, my wife and I were waiting to board a flight to St. Maarten on Windward Airlines. To describe Windward as an airline is, in itself, a huge leap into metaphorical fantasy. It’s more like an ad hoc collection of natives who happened to wash up on the same beach only to find an abandoned plane. But I digress.

Eventually, a small airplane resembling a Tonka toy rolled up to the ramp outside the boarding area. Out stepped a young blonde-haired girl wearing khaki shorts and a shirt with four stripes on the epaulettes adorning her lovely shoulders. In a too loud voice I joked: “Oh, my God! A toy airplane with a little girl pilot.” Others in the small area overheard and we all shared a good natured laugh. Unfortunately, the girl overheard and said with a giggle, “Don’t worry. I do this every day.”

I sheepishly looked around and saw three other pilots. All older. All men. Whew!

I breathed easier, but not for long. When our flight was called you can guess who was our pilot and which airplane was to transport us. Right on!

The cute little thing smiled and very confidently said: “Welcome aboard,” to all six of us passengers. (I reflected on the fact that airlines refer to their passengers as ‘souls’.)

Now to the simile part. I would posit that a president is like your pilot. We never get to choose our pilot unless we own the plane, but an old aviation adage reminds us: There are old pilots. There are bold pilots. But there are no old, bold pilots. If one could vote for the guy in the front left seat, I would always opt for one with grey hair and a crumpled hat that screams “experience”.

Remember the Rolling Stones’ hit from the late sixties; the chorus of which is: “You can’t always get what you want. . . . but if you try, you just might find what you need.”?

That lyric comes to mind every election cycle.

Enter Donald Trump: stage right. He’s charismatic, opinionated, articulate and can charm a buck from a beggar. He’s also the odds-on winner at this early stage. But can he fly the damned plane? Does he have a flight director? Does he even know what a flight director is, or will he take off with only a couple of stewardesses? Can he tell North from South? Are we destined to end up like Air Malaysia?

The ‘little-girl’ pilot got us to St. Maarten that day not so long ago. No doubt my fingernail impressions are still on the armrests of that toy airplane – though I was somewhat comforted by the thought that I could probably swim the short distance to shore if necessary.

As next year’s election approaches, I’m tempted to add a new verse to the Stones’ song: “Be certain of what you want. It may not be what you need – and it’s a long swim home if you’re wrong.”

You are welcome.

More at: http://www.jameshpyle.com