Ahh..cr@p days...
There ARE those days when you would have been better off washing the car.
No matter what you do, there's 4 cons higher. No matter what you do, you can't hit squat, even if it fills your gunsite.
Find a lone con, commence with a great fight, finally turn the tables as you both fight to the deck, and get swacked by a 110 that just dropped from 37,000 feet with no other reason then to get the single "low" guy...
Cash in your chips and take a Tempest up. Enter a "multi-con" enviroment and suddenly realize EVERY badguy in the group is intent on killing YOU. Hair on fire, kill a Pony and narrowly escape the 275 guys on your tail only to disco on final and loose your chips.........
Finally put together a good sortie, got a few in the bag, start feeling a little better about yourself....
On final, full flaps, the gears down, flying a buck ten, just about to kiss the runway and a 190 pops the hill and......
Out of the 15 or so friendlies hovering about the field.....
LOOK !!! THERE'S A GUY JUST ABOUT TO TOUCH DOWN !!!
And a muffled gunshot is heard at the rear of the poop's household..