I'd like to be the American cowboy that goes over there. They can call me a buck-a-roo all they want, but I'd still love to fly a multi-engine turboprop over there.
The problem with these jobs in Russia is playing chicken and knowin' when to flinch.
You know, to get them to hire me, I'll fly the alps with a stop watch and a map in a plane with no windows. As long as the map is accurate enough, I guess.
I've perfecting my crew briefing for when I upgrade: Comrades! Our own airline doesn't know our full potential! They will do everything possible to test us, but they will only test their own embarrassment. We will leave our fleet behind! We will pass through the American patrols, past their sonar nets, and lay off their largest city, and listen to their rock and roll...while we conduct missile drills!
errr
ya
ya