All your planes are belong to snakes

Tomorrow I am faced with the displeasure of flying. Ranking right up there with unanesthetized surgery, final exams, kidney stones, and mom's lumpy gravy is having to fly. So as I board the plane with trepidation, I will be reciting the following prayer to God, or alternatively, to the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky:

"Dear G-O-D (or F-S-M), if it is your will to smite down the sinners upon this plane with your heavy hand, and to wash away the sins of man by releasing dozens of deadly and venomous snakes - gone crazy by the release of pheromones - upon this plane, at least send an angel to protect the innocent and pure among those passengers. Please let Samuel L. Jackson be on this plane to protect us from evil.

....Oh, and if you are feeling particularly generous today, please seat me next to Kiera Knightly on the plane. Thank-you."