“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Chandra, are you going to be sick? Or, do you just think you’re going to be sick?”
“I’m really going to be sick. I think.”
“Can’t you throw up out the window?”
“Reliving your college days?”
“Hey! Don’t make fun of my college days! Those were three of the best days of my life!”
“Oh, god, get me down! GET ME DOWN!”
“You haven’t actually taken off, have you?”
“Not in the helicopter, in any case.”
“Okay, I’m taking off my helmet and leaving the chopper.”
“You don’t have the stomach to fly in a helicopter?”
“I just want to make sure that my stomach stays right where it is, thank you very much.”
“Chandra, didn’t you know this would be a problem when you entered the contest to be CDIK’s first traffic reporter?”
“Well, of course, I knew I was chicken, but, well, as god is my witness, I thought chickens could fly.”
“That was an obscure reference.”
“Besides, I didn’t enter the contest to be a traffic reporter.”
“You didn’t?”
“I entered the contest to win Coldplay tickets.”
“Then, what are you doing in our specially commissioned helicopter?”
“I have no idea, but I’m thinking of pressing charges.”
“But, Chandra, don’t you see? You have to be our new traffic reporter.”
“Why?”
“You’re a girl.”
“And, ethnic. Chandra – is that like Mongolian or something?”
“Dick, why do you have to be such a dick?”
“Well, that’s just the job description on CDIK, isn’t it?”
“You see, Chandra, an ethnic girl will help our effort to make the radio station more diverse by putting non-white, non-males in positions of minor authority.”
“And, that way, we can make fun of girls and people of your ethnic minority – Serbo-Croatian, I’m guessing? – and nobody can complain because you’re taking it like a trooper, and if you can laugh at our crude sexist and racist humour, they should be able to, too.”
“So, in a perverse way that could only happen in a country with a CRTC, we need you.”
“I don’t know…that’s flattering and all, but, still, it’s a lot to put on the shoulders of somebody who just wanted front row seats to see Coldplay.”
“Uhh, actually, that whole front row thing? The tickets we give out in contests are actually in the front row of our box, which is at the back of the ACC.”
“So, I wouldn’t have seen Coldplay even if I had won the tickets?”
“Not without a telescope, no.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“But, now, you can see all of Toronto in the city’s only traffic helicopter.”
“If you don’t count CPNQ’s Eye in the Sky.”
“No, they definitely don’t count.”
“Not to mention, CFFW’s Chopper Non-stopper.”
“I wish you hadn’t mentioned that.”
“And, how about CDKI’s Traffic Jam Helicam?”
“Is there a point to all this, Dick?”
“I just think it might be more accurate to say that Chandra will be in one of only seven or eight traffic helicopters traveling above the city.”
“Oh, that’s going to sound great in station promos.”
“I’m just saying –”
“Don’t you feel honoured by that distinction, Chandra? One of only seven or eight traffic helicopters in Toronto?”
“…”
“Chandra?”
“…”
“Are you there, Chandra?”
“…”
“Maybe we should have offered her Coldplay tickets to stay in the helicopter.”
“…Okay, we’ll just have to pick somebody else. We did get 327 entries – how hard can it be. What did you think if Infantre?”
“Was he the one with the blue cape?”
“No, you’re thinking of Ashante.”
“Isn’t Ashante the one I kept saying “Gesundheit!” too every time she tried to introduce herself to us?”
“That, too. You’re such a class act, Dick.”
“Thank you, Dick. Coming from you, that means nothing. So, what do we do now?”
“What we always do. You’re going to have to do the traffic from the studio.”
“Do I have to hit my chest to get that helicopter sound.”
“Oh, by all means hit your chest. The harder, the better.”
“Okay. This is Michaelangelo “Dick” Tremonte high in the sky in C-DIK-FLY, Big Dick Radio’s new traffic helicopter, telling you that if you’re on the highways, you know what conditions are like, and if you’re not in your car, you probably don’t care…”