Our co-pilot was a flask of coffee

Regular readers will know that I prefer to fly on small planes against those airborne cattle cars any day.  When I lived in Seattle, it was magic.  Whenever I had to go to Victoria, Canada I could just walk from my flat to the seaplane terminal at Lake Union, ask Janice at the desk if there was a seat going and I'd land literally outside my hotel a couple of hours later after swooping over the San Juan Islands watching whales.  Now I can do pretty much the same thing, but it means driving 15 miles into town to the municipal airstrip and remembering to pick up bread on the way home.

That being said, small plane travel can be a bit casual and the chocky biccy question does rear its head from time to time.

Caution: This is Eddie Izzard, so the language is a bit blue at times.