Word: fasten
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...Eleven hijackers, believed to be members of Venezuela's Red Flag terrorist group and representing various leftist causes, got through airport security by passing themselves off as a band of musicians. They boarded the aircraft carrying grenades and automatic weapons concealed in instrument cases. No sooner had the FASTEN SEAT BELT signs been turned off than the three planes' 235 passengers and 15 crew members found themselves on a harrowing 29-hr, jaunt that touched down at various Latin and Caribbean countries en route to Havana. All hostages were released unharmed. The gunmen were taken into custody...
...really, not ever. The famous lines of Bette Davis are as fixed in the national consciousness as the Pledge of Allegiance. There is Margo Charming in All About Eve warning her friends to fasten their seat belts because "it's going to be a bumpy night." There is Regina in The Little Foxes telling her dying husband: "I hope you die soon. I'll be waiting for you to die." In a different mood, Charlotte Vale at the fadeout of Now, Voyager: "Oh, Jerry. Don't let's ask for the moon. We have the stars...
...contain dangerous chemicals. So has mother's milk, in which PCBS have turned up. Birth defects could be linked to caffeine from coffee or any source, it was reported just last month. Even peanut butter, as an occasional bearer of aflatoxin, has been flagged as a menace. Driving? Fasten the seat belt- unless discouraged by warnings that most of them do not work. On the road, even rest-room signs often gratuitously warn against VD. Flying? Remember that some pas sengers get ozone poisoning in those high-altitude supersonic jets. Sleeping? Doing it too little or too much...
...villainous General Zod. "If they do, the picture is a success." By Stamp's definition, at any rate, the movie will be a smash. Superman not only flies better and faster than any bird or plane, but he does aerial acrobatics that would cause an eagle to fasten its seat belt...
...FASTEN SEAT BELTS PLEASE. The light blinks on overhead, we sink into our seats and careen off into the wild blue '80s. And it becomes harder and harder to analyze and thus understand the slothful indulgences and psychotic tendencies of that great unruly beast, the American Imperium. Our best writers have tried--and mostly failed--Pynchon, with the wondrous Gravity's Rainbow, a critical mass of incendiary pages, and McGuane, with his taut vision of love and death in the Florida Keys, 92 in the Shade. No wonder there is so much yearning for that time of the superego...