Nobody talks about this one. A 1985 comedy that treats its flying-school future not as world-building exposition but as the setup for genuinely weird humor, where the joke is that everyone's casually airborne and nobody cares. The show moves like its characters do, fast, loose, bouncing between gags without pretending any of this needs serious explanation. It's the kind of mid-80s sci-fi comedy that got buried because it wasn't trying to be important, just funny in a way that required you to accept the absurd premise and move on.
A kid wakes up in a future Tokyo where the impossible is routine. Schools don't sit on ground level anymore: they drift high above the city, suspended in the clouds where students commute by flying under their own power. Everyone's born with the ability to take to the air, turning the entire metropolis into a three-dimensional playground where the sky itself becomes a neighborhood. Our protagonist navigates this mechatronics-powered world where technology and human ability have merged so completely that nobody questions it anymore. But what happens when someone discovers that this sleek, convenient future might not be as stable as it seems? Comedy erupts as our hero stumbles through daily life, getting into ridiculous situations that only work in a world where gravity isn't a constraint. The show treats this insane premise with a light touch, finding humor in the gap between how effortlessly everyone else adapts to flying and how chaotically our kid manages to mess it up. It's sci-fi that doesn't take itself seriously, packed with gags that land harder because the world itself is completely absurd.