I clearly remember, even after forty and more years, what actual physically-manifested terror I used to experience in front of "The Last Judgment", "The Day of His Wrath" and certain other of John Martin's magnificent and disturbing paintings on my first visits to the Tate Gallery, at around age eight or nine.
I feel a similar sensation now, as the pseudo-religious rats from a swiftly-sinking .71 swarm in here, in their panic, to try to recreate this board in their own infinitely tedious image.
Surely some revelation is at hand...
Ordinary tickets that give access to aviation are called:
Plain Tickets
You see what I did there?
Now it's your turn, but make them harder.