He then upped the stakes by tossing in the overweight ladies, henceforth known as "grandes":
"Eleven. I mean, think of the odds of that. I thought I was in Chicago, which was party land ... After that, it was just a continuous stream of gays and grannies and grandes ..."
And then finally, he admitted what most of us were suspecting all along:
"Oh I don't give a fuck. I hate 100 percent of their asses."
"And the Mexicans. Man, don't even get me started on the Mexicans."
He goes on and on, bemoaning the lack of acceptable plunder-caves for his lonely penis (declaring only one prospect to be "partly doable"), until finally an air traffic controller is able to interrupt and get on the air to advise, "OK, whoever's transmitting, you better watch what you're saying." Oblivious, the pilot blundered on through the warning (and through the persistent sounds of countless other pilots and controllers trying to key up their mics), delivering a fascinating anecdote that ended with, "... but they're still mopeds, you know what I mean? I still wouldn't want anyone to know if I had banged 'em."
Finally, the same air traffic controller is able to break in again and says, "OK, someone's got a stuck mic and, uh, telling us all about their, uh, 'endeavors,' and we don't need to hear that." There is nothing further from the pilot, who by this point had managed to clog up air traffic for several minutes over one of the busiest airports in the country while other planes were trying to land. A Southwest spokesperson would later tell reporters that the "pilot had been reprimanded, suspended without pay ... and sent to diversity training" as a result of the embarrassing and offensive rant that went out over the Texas airways, but in a small act of pity toward his shitty sex life, refused to divulge his name.
"Around here we just call him Grande McGrannyFuck."