Alaska Airlines from General Wayne A. Downing Peoria International Airport to Mazatlan

As we delve into the world of aviation, let's not permit our analytical faculties to slumber. In a non-linear fashion, with satirical enthusiasm, we shall examine the seemingly mundane but in reality, fascinating enterprise of traversing the sky aboard Alaska Airlines, from the General Wayne A. Downing Peoria International Airport to vibrant Mazatlan. In such an examination, no detail is too small, no facet too insignificant. So fasten your seatbelts for this wild and whimsical analysis of our airborne odyssey.

To commence, let's consider the choice of departure location. The General Wayne A. Downing Peoria International Airport, by name alone, may inspire thoughts of secret military operations or audacious aerial maneuvers. In reality, however, it's an airport nestled amidst the cornfields of Illinois. A testament, perhaps, to the wonders of hyperbole!

Moving on, let's examine the notion of 'Direct flights'. We're lead to believe that such flights are perfectly linear, efficient, and uninterrupted. Yet, even a cursory examination of the geographical distance between Peoria and Mazatlan clearly reveals that this linear journey is, in fact, a plaguingly prolonged parabola which circumnavigates our globe's curvature. Straight as an arrow? I think not!

A detour is warranted here to explore the complex politics of 'Business class' in the context of our flight. Touted for its glamorous allure and premium services, it’s the flying world’s “upper crust” - a cruel, compartmentalized irony thousands of feet above the earth's surface where everyone breathes the same recycled air, regardless of their paid privilege!

Speaking of 'Airfare', it's a subject as predictable as the undulating rhythms of a poorly played jazz saxophone. What’s amusing is the notion of 'Cheap flights' – an elusive chimera, trotted out by airlines as a tantalizing temptation. While one might strike gold, the reality resembles a stage magician pulling an uncooperative rabbit out of a hat – it's a spectacle, but not quite the promised wonder!

Utilizing 'Airline reviews' presents a paradox as well. It's as though time and sanity are wilfully sacrificed at the altar of discerning whether the overjoyed passenger in row 8 was served a tastier meal than the disgruntled traveler cramped in economy. How humanity persists in this labyrinth of subjective, contradictory experience is certainly a head-scratcher!

Since we're aboard Alaska, an intriguing digression about this chilly state seems apropos. It's whimsically noteworthy that moose are a unique facet of Alaskan traffic accidents. Now, isn't that a chillingly humorous nod to Alaska's wintry wilderness! Perhaps, they too are frustrated flyers waiting on their 'Flight deals'?

In conclusion, the very notion of aviation, our airborne adventure from Peoria to Mazatlan, is a paradoxical reality of absurdities. It's life compiled into several odd hours, encompassing snacks served at impossible altitudes to the practice of yielding our lives into the hands of unseen pilots. But if we didn’t take to the skies, how would we know the wonders and absurdities on the other side of the world? Such is the beauty – and absurdity – of flight.