"Please make sure your tray tables are- ah, just hold on," Tony said, and fired up the repulsors, lifting them straight up to hover for a moment as he steadied with the one hand he had, before shooting to above the treeline.

Once there he swooped to horizontal, keeping at what he thought was a reasonable pace for someone with healthy, non-child passengers.

Tony's perception of reasonable pace did not always line up with that of others.

(In particular, traffic officers. People who liked their windows not shattered by sonic booms. Unreasoable people, in other words.)