Normal speed out of 14,000, and I've got a shortcut if you'd like." When a plane has cleared the terrain on departure from Salt Lake City, a modest shortcut down the road is pretty standard if departing in the late evening hours. "We'll take it." "Cleared direct PIGLT for the PIGLT arrival into Orlando." I blinked hard as my finger hovered above the keypad. We were over Utah. The controller was handing us a shortcut to a fix on the arrival, more than four hours away, in Florida, between Ocala and Orlando. Sometimes my "say again" calls on the radio are because I don't understand the last transmission. Sometimes they're because I don't believe the last transmission. I was flying in a nightmare, an apocalyptic wasteland, a world where no passengers showed up for our flights.
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