Airline pilots used to have a lock on "cool."

Back in the 1970s, even into the 80s, the captain's voice over the aircraft PA was the ultimate flyboy persona, exuding quiet confidence with a side order of sincerity: coolness incarnate.

That persona was imitated by Hollywood, admired by many air travelers, and ultimately, defined a voice of strength, authority and responsibility in the air.

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But that was then, and this is now.

Thirty or forty years of Hollywood depictions — including a few parodies — have had a twofold impact, and not for the better.

I think the decline started with "Top Gun," which gave the next generation of military pilots a way to see themselves, but unfortunately promoted bravado over responsibility. One end result, as I see it, was the Tailhook scandal — dangerous, sexist antics that brought national disdain upon the military services involved.

And then there were the airline pilot depictions of legendary actors Rock Hudson, George Kennedy or Charlton Heston. My generation of pilots wasn't offered practical training to actually fill the role in a real, live jet cockpit, and so too many of my cohort fumbled to replicate what they witnessed on a movie screen.

When Rock Hudson told his passengers over the PA, "This is your captain speaking," it was because that's what the script said. But how awkward would it be for your pediatrician to open with, "this is your kid's doctor speaking"? In 24 years (and counting) as a captain at the world's largest airline, I've never said, "This is your captain speaking," because I have a name. It's, "Welcome aboard, this is Captain Manno."

The other senseless carryover from media fiction is the opener, "From the cockpit." The cockpit is only a place, but the crew are real people, and they all have names. How would a sermon sound with the opening, "From the pulpit ..." or in court, "from the bench ..."?

When most of us were minted as new captains, two things happened. First, we became gods, because we were given the ultimate authority for multi-million dollar aircraft and responsibility for hundreds of lives each day. Second, we became humbled — once the responsibility sank in.

But for all the training pilots receive on handling the aircraft, we're on our own when it comes to the PA. Above all, pilots are pilots, not public speakers, and the drive-by PA became the standard: the disembodied "from the cockpit" and "your captain" stitched together with a drawled (no matter where "your captain" is from) conjunction of "ahs."

You'll hear on board, "Welcome to flight [number], nonstop service to [destination]."

And when I'm in the passenger cabin, I want to grab the captain and remind him, it's not "service," it's flight. It's not the ground-loving term "equipment," but a jet that we pilot, with which we make the barely sub-sonic magic of safe passage with a hundred or more people aboard.

If passengers don't know their destination, is this really the time to tell them?

Practically speaking, once the gear's up the flight number is irrelevant. And more importantly, if passengers don't know their destination, is this really the time to tell them?

After all these years, here's what I know: Passengers are hassled by the gauntlet that is modern air travel. By the time they're on board, they're tired, hungry, probably stifling with the cramped quarters and low air flow, concerned about baggage and connections and delays, and whatever awaits at their destination.

So my goal is to give timely and regular information. Real stuff — including my name — and time estimates and landing info and details that make life in the back of the jet just a degree or two more bearable for those who pay me to enjoy the privilege of flight.

No clichés, uhs and ahs, Hollywood schtick or — God forbid — humor. Just the facts.

Like the bygone era of epic captains in the early days of air travel, I realize that's a wistful look back at a lost art and really, a moot point today: Anything other than a concise, brief announcement en route will earn a captain several calls from flight attendants, saying, "Shut up, they're trying to watch the movie."

So here we are, many years and as many clichés down the road. Though the words may not have changed for the better, it's the same captain as ever, guiding your jet.

Hope you enjoy your flight.

Chris Manno has been an airline pilot since 1985, and a captain since 1991. He currently flies the Boeing 737-800 based out of Dallas/Fort Worth. Prior to that, he was a United State Air Force pilot and officer for seven years. Find him on Twitter at @Chris_Manno.