On the eve of Thanksgiving in 1971, a Duck carrying a black attache case, purchased a one way ticket from Northwest Orient Airlines. He boarded flight 305, a thirty minute trip from Portland to Seattle, Washington. He went directly to the rear cabin and lit a cigarette. The stewardess approached the Duck with big smiles and even bigger busts saying hello.
“I'd like a bourbon,” He said. “With soda.”
The stewardess, giggled and shook her gray fuzzy tail. “Sure thing, Doc,” She said. D.B. Watched her wiggle down the aisle. She sure looks familiar, he thought to himself.
A woman looked at the Duck from across the aisle, noticing he was wearing dark sunglasses, loafers, a dark suit, a lightweight raincoat. On his tie was a Mother of Pearl pen. The stewardess returned with his bourbon. “Here you go, Doc,” She smiled big.
In exchange for the bourbon, D.B. Handed her a note. She placed the small piece of paper down her bra and said, “Fresh.”
D.B. Looked bewildered. “Say,” He said, “Miss, you better look at that note. I have a bomb.”
“Oh,” The smile disappeared, her posture became rigid when she realized what D.B. Said.
The stewardess read the note aloud. “I have a bomb in my briefcase....i will use it if I have to. You are being hijacked.....Say, Doc, I think you misspelled hijacked...it's h-i-j-a-c-k-e-d...not h-i-g-h----”
“Just sit down,toots! Your despicable.” D.B. Tore the note from her hands. She sat beside him.
“Can I see the bomb, Doc,” She whispered.
D.B. Opened the briefcase just long enough to show eight red cylinders attached to wires. Then he closed it, laughing diabolically.
“I want 200,000 dollars unmarked in 20's. Two back parachutes and two front parachutes. When we land, I want a fuel truck ready to refuel. No funny stuff, toots, or I'll finish the job.”
The stewardess let the cockpit know of the orders. Everything was in place. Plane refueled. Money given to D.B. Many of the passengers were aloud to leave. The plane was in air again. Now it was pitch black. He told the cockpit he wanted to go to Mexico City. At 8:00 P.M., the aft light flashed in cockpit, showing that the AFT door was open. The stewardess heard D.B. Say, “So long, suckers!” And he began to laugh.
D.B. Was out the plane, hovering in the air, mere seconds later he pulled one rip cord. No parachute engaged, only pots and pans flew into the clouds above him. D.B. Was bewildered. He pulled another rip cord, and more pots and pans and now a kitchen sink flew into the clouds. His drop was steady. He pulled the other two rip cords and more of the same blew past him, including a cow that mooed.
D.B. Held up a sign that showed a picture of a jack-ass and an arrow pointing at him.
He screamed as his peril became more dire, hitting the earth at speed his mind could not compute. He was flattened like a pancake.
The stewardess watched the whole thing. She removed her blonde wig and revealed long bunny ears. “Ain't I a stinker,” She said.