"Maybe. Just maybe my boys can protect the book. Yeah, and maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot." - Ash, Army of Darkness

A jet on the ground in Anchorage. The place is always littered with jets, sort of like Anchorage is a big jet singles bar.

Alaska is like a big Interstate truck stop. Except in this case, the trucks are 747 cargo flights flitting about the world, chock full of I-Pods, Pantyhose and Pez dispensers.

Let me explain.

Alaska is smack-dab in the middle of the industrialized world. It’s about the same distance from Beijing as it is from Berlin as it is from New York. So, if you have Pantyhose from Singapore headed to Kentucky, it makes sense to fill your jet with as much Pantyhose as possible, skimp a bit on fuel, stop in Anchorage to top off the tank, and then fly New York. Plus, by Anchorage you could probably use a good cup of java.

Due to this geographic oddity, we can sit in our hot tub and watch planes that just fueled up in Anchorage flying overhead, due north, heading off to Europe over the North Pole so that German kid with the crappy haircut can listen to Jessica Simpson on his new Korean MP3 player while wearing pantyhose. Or whatever European kids wear whilst they sit around angst-ridden about bird flu or how they have no future or whatever. Might as well be pantyhose if you have no future. Go ahead and splurge.

Despite the truck-stop ambiance, we seem to have no rogue sheriff who works outside the law, and no surplus of pilots who fly with pet monkeys like we saw with truck drivers. Who can forget BJ and the Bear? I wanted to be a truck driver for the monkey alone. I think more pilots should fly with chimps. Do cargo pilots flying 747 call each other good buddy? Do they catch each other on the flip-flop? I digress.

In a survey last year, the Anchorage airport was ranked #3 in the world as far as interconnection with other airports, and it’s primarily because of the products flowing to and from the Far East. Not only does Alaska provide millions of barrels of sweet, sweet oil for people to sit in traffic in their Hyundais, it also provides air freight for the parts for the Hyundais if they break, melt, or otherwise fail.

So, we’re the gas station and truck stop of the industrialized world. I think that should mean that our State Food should be biscuits and walrus gravy, or some such. And we should definitely have showers for the truckers pilots.

So, you have Alaska to thank for the Pez, the Pantyhose, the I-Pods, the Petroleum, and the Parts for your Hyundai. All things starting with the letter ‘P’ are related somehow to Alaska. You don’t have to thank us, we’re just generous that way.