Ok, I’ve heard from all the angered flight attendants and others telling me how much danger he put the JetBlue passengers in. I don’t care. Steven Slater is my hero.

Slater is the flight attendant who finally had enough and took an express flight to Wig Out City. A passenger was trying to remove a bag from the overheard compartment. Slater told he couldn’t do it at that time. The passenger cursed him, the bag fell and hit Slater in the head. “Snapper?…Party of One?”

Slater grabbed the little microphone to the plane-wide intercom and told the passenger to “F*** Off.” He was just warming up. He then activated the emergency, inflatable slide (admit it, you always wanted to slide down one of those things although probably without the prerequisite emergency), grabbed a beer from the service cart and slid down the slide, reportedly ripping his company-required tie off on the way down. He then went home where police eventually arrested him. Priceless.

Yes, he was unprofessional. Yes, he could have “endangered” passengers. Yes, he probably blah, blah, blah. I don’t care. It was great.

For summers during college, I waited tables at a very popular restaurant in the beautiful Berkshires where I grew up. The place was frequented mostly by New Yorkers coming to West Stockbridge prior to a concert at Tanglewood in Lenox. More than once—actually, almost every shift—I wanted to tell these snobs where they could put their picnic candelabra and dump a pina colada over their heads. I didn’t. In his own way, Slater did. It was hilarious.