Those catchphrases, too, have long been easy targets for ridicule. We've already discussed Northwest's ill-advised "Some People Just Know How to Fly" slogan from the mid-1990s, but plenty of others have lent themselves marvelously to a sarcastic take-down.

Consider Delta's "We Get You There," another '90s campaign. Passengers don't anticipate much from their airlines anymore, but talk about the nadir of lowered expectations. Get me there? I should bloody well hope so.

No less mockworthy was USAir's old standard, "USAir Begins With You." Or was it "USAir Begins With U"? That one always struck me as the kind of grade-school-quality slogan more fitting for a locally run retailer or insurance agency (or perhaps a chain jewelry store, where, in case you haven't heard, "Every Kiss Begins With Kay/K").

United does not begin with You, though it does begin with U, and it definitely ends with "ted," the suffix chosen to represent United's low-cost Denver-based spinoff. What is Ted? Why it's "Part of United," explains the airline's home page in a cheeky motto-cum-spelling lesson.

In the same spirit of confusion was American's old TV jingle, "We're American Airlines, doing what we do best." Presumably AA meant for us to hear "We're American Airlines, doing what we do better than anyone else does it," though an equally valid interpretation had it "We're American Airlines, doing the thing that we do better than we do anything else." In other words, we may not fly planes very well, but if you think that's bad, you should see us drive a car.

After a while, American set new lyrics to the identical music, and suddenly it became "We're American Airlines, Something Special in the Air." The same melody and (almost) the same number of syllables, coupled to a slightly more viable sentiment. Either way it stuck in our heads -- meaningless, syrupy and irritatingly catchy -- which is all any jingle writer really cares about.

For all its other, non-slogan-related problems, United covers for its mushy "Friendly Skies" bit through use of its trademark Gershwin Muzak. As regulars to this column already know, I've long been enamored of UAL's rendition of "Rhapsody in Blue," doubtless in perfect obedience to the wishes of the airline's marketers.

On the other extreme, apparently, is Lufthansa's "No Better Way to Fly" song, which the German carrier -- and United code-share partner -- is known to blare over a plane's sound system for the full duration of boarding and taxi. I haven't heard it myself, but readers attest to its awfulness. "I fantasize about a musical showdown," says Jason Gull, e-mailing from Washington. "A 'Devil Went Down to Georgia' style contest, where United's Gershwin gives a well-earned thrashing to whatever '70s-era Alan Thicke sound-alike Lufthansa hired to croon that horrible number, which is so reminiscent of the theme from 'Three's Company' that I half expect Jack and Chrissy to come pushing drink carts down the aisle."

You wouldn't expect a trendsetting European like Lufthansa to outdo United in bad taste, but there you have it. And wait, it gets stranger:

Stepping into the cabins of SAS (Scandinavian Airlines), yet another company to undergo an identity overhaul in recent years, one is prone to notice the immaculate furnishings and tasteful, understated colors. All very Scandinavian, you could say, except SAS has chosen to include a scattering of bizarrely rendered English slogans as part of its decor.

"There are three ways to travel," announces a placard near the forward boarding door. "In an armchair. In your imagination. Welcome to the third."

What's that now? Later, when your meal arrives, the cardboard lid proclaims, "A taste. A sigh. A feeling of satisfaction." Your tray includes conjoined packets of salt and pepper, upon which are blazoned all the pith and provocation a paying passenger expects -- nay, demands -- from a tiny paper envelope of seasoning.

The color of snow,
The taste of tears,
The enormity of oceans.

What better for those quiet moments at 37,000 feet than the existential musing of the Scandinavian salt poet. (They don't do this stuff at Ikea, do they?) And if you have trouble viewing it, let me transcribe that pepper packet:

"Pepper has been called 'the gift of the East,'
though 'gift' means poison in Swedish.
don't let that put you off."

Wouldn't dream of it, though I'm surprised that message hasn't triggered a few "suspicious substance" security diversions to the nearest airport.

You might be reminded of my observations from the gift shop at Tokyo's Narita airport some months ago. I still use my "Private and Official Time for Sensuous People" notebook. The weird translational malapropisms of Janglish are of course well documented, but SAS gives us an entirely new term: "Scanglish."

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Media Errata Log Update:

In a widely disseminated story about airliner fuel-tank safety, Leslie Miller of the Associated Press reports that 346 people were killed aboard TWA flight 800 in 1996.

The correct total is 230 people.

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