The Sopranos Learn to Fly a Plane

So picture this: The Sopranos… in flight school.

Yeah, that’s right — Tony Soprano, Paulie Walnuts, Silvio Dante — in a flight simulator, tryin’ to get their pilot’s license. Because ya know, being a mob boss ain’t stressful enough — let’s throw a Boeing 737 into the mix.

First day of class, Tony walks in like,

“Lemme get this straight. You want me to trust a computer? My Ma never trusted the microwave!”

Tony sits in the cockpit, looks around, and goes,

“Where’s the steering wheel? This thing’s got more buttons than my mother’s TV remote.”

Paulie Walnuts, he’s in the co-pilot seat, tapping all the buttons like he’s ordering at a deli counter:

“What’s this do? What’s that do? OHH! I turned off the engines!”

Meanwhile, Silvio’s in the back of the simulator with his pinky in the air, drinkin’ espresso from a thermos like it’s the first-class lounge.

“Eyy, these pretzels better be warm when we taxi, capisce?”

Then the instructor — some poor guy from Newark — tries to teach ’em the checklist. Tony just stares at him and goes,

“Checklist? Lemme tell you somethin’. We don’t do checklists. We do favors.”

Takeoff time.
Tony hits the throttle like he’s drag racing on Bloomfield Ave.

“WOO! Look at this thing go! Feels like the time I stole a Cadillac from JFK back in ‘92.”

They’re airborne — barely.
Paulie’s sweating like he’s testifying.

“Oh my gawd, Tony, we’re at 35,000 feet! I don’t even like escalators!”

Then the turbulence hits.
Tony’s white-knuckling the yoke, screaming:

“SIL! CALL CARMELA! TELL HER I ALWAYS LOVED HER — AND TO DELETE MY BROWSER HISTORY!”

Meanwhile, Silvio’s cool as ever,

“Relax. I’ve had worse shakes after a bad calzone.”

Then Paulie WALNUTS — he opens the cockpit door and shouts back to the imaginary passengers:

“IF ANYONE BACK THERE IS A CATHOLIC PRIEST — START PRAYIN’. AND IF YOU’RE NOT, CONVERT NOW!”

Final approach.
The instructor’s like, “Okay Tony, time to land.”
Tony squints at the runway and mutters,

“You ever parallel park a 747? ‘Cause I haven’t.”

The landing is rough. Like, “witness protection” rough.
Plane skids, sparks fly, simulator crashes.
Silvio’s like,

“Well, that was smoother than United.”

And Paulie — oh Paulie — stands up, tosses off his headset and says,

“Fellas, I’m takin’ the train from now on.”

Thank you! Tip your flight attendants — or better yet, don’t make ’em mad. They’re probably from Jersey too.