Overheard at lunch:

A friend or associate of one of the lawyers at the next table was flying in a small commericial airplane. It could have been in Eastern Europe; I only managed to get that she was going "from republic to republic." Well, it's irrelevant, anyway. They took off, and when they reached cruising altitude, the captain put the plane in auto-pilot and went back to the cabin to schmooze with passengers. Evidentally, there was no one else at the controls. And, evidentally, they weren't flying a puddle jumper with nothing but a curtain between the cockpit (YART) and cabin. The plane hit some turbulence and the door swung shut--and locked. I can imagine the poor guy's career competing with his life to flash before his eyes. They tried everything to get back in, including a can opener. (Don't ask, I have no idea). Finally, the pilot asked for anyone for anything that would get him back to the stick, and someone produced a hatchet from their carry-on. She lived to tell the tale.