The following is cut/pasted from an email my sister just sent me. This is the true story ofher flight from Atlanta to Newark, NJ earlier this evening.
Subject: The Dog Ate My Homework -- A Traveler's Excuse for Not Working Out
I had every intention of working out on this trip. E-V-E-R-Y I-N-T-E-N-T-I-O-N. I packed my stuff, I had a plan for how I can work out tomorrow morning and still make my 9:30 conference call, my 10:00 deposition, and my 3:00 meeting in Allentown. I had it all planned and I was committed to this. My new work out coach, Brenda, would have been proud of me.
First the plane was delayed, then we had the inevitable equipment change and a further delay. But still, looking good: we boarded with only ninety minutes delay and I had the upgrade. My work out was still in good shape.
And then some guy a grown man in coach threw up on a lady six rows behind him. Why he was six rows behind his assigned seat is a mystery. Perhaps he was heading to rear lavatory and did not make it. Perhaps due to his illness he was disoriented. But for whatever reason, he threw up on a complete stranger. I obviously did not see this from my first class bulkhead seat, but the flight attendants were all at the boarding door discussing what to do. First, the guy would not get off the plane, and apparently FFA regulations require sick people get off the plane. So a security guy gets him off the plane. Had this been the end of the tale, I would be working out tomorrow and Brenda would be proud. But, alas, it was not.
The lady who had been thrown up upon had been escorted to the rear lavatory by the coach flight attendant, a festive man who brought her club soda with which to try to get the puke out of her clothes. Again, I did not see this but I can only imagine that he brought her a LOT of it, because apparently the lady TOOK OFF ALL HER CLOTHES in the bathroom of the airplane and doused them in water and club soda in order to clean them and only THEN realized that she had no clothes in her carry on luggage. Not so much as a sock. So we could not leave because, apparently, FAA regulations preclude pushing back from the gate when there is a naked lady in the rear lavatory.
The flight attendants met in the front of the cabin and the only male flight attendant surrendered his t-shirt (the one under his regulation Delta shirt which I suspect hed been wearing all day) but this did not solve the naked-from-the-waist-down problem. The meeting in the front of the plane came up with the idea that they would give the lady a Delta blanket, which she could wrap around her waist so we could take off and fly to NJ. Apparently their thinking was that this woman who had paid for the privilege of being vomited upon and then wearing another persons used clothing would agree to wrap a tiny blanket around her lower half, sit like that for 2 hours on the flight and then walk through New Jersey airport to her final destination clutching the blanket around her waist. Call me stupid, but I could foresee this woman NOT agreeing to leave the bathroom for such a plan, and thus our flight not taking off.
So I stopped the now-only-wearing-one-shirt flight attendant and offered to give the lady my clothes. He immediately spied the rational nature of my proposal as compared to his, and got my suitcase out of the overhead compartment. I was faced with the choice of giving her the skirt I packed to wear to the deposition and witness meeting tomorrow, or my work out shorts. Knowing that it would be a bad idea for me to conduct official Scapa business in gym shorts, I gave the lady my shorts. She put on the shorts, existed the lavatory and we took off. Shortly after reaching cruising altitude, the flight attendant announced that the rear lavatory was out of order.
Subject: The Dog Ate My Homework -- A Traveler's Excuse for Not Working Out
I had every intention of working out on this trip. E-V-E-R-Y I-N-T-E-N-T-I-O-N. I packed my stuff, I had a plan for how I can work out tomorrow morning and still make my 9:30 conference call, my 10:00 deposition, and my 3:00 meeting in Allentown. I had it all planned and I was committed to this. My new work out coach, Brenda, would have been proud of me.
First the plane was delayed, then we had the inevitable equipment change and a further delay. But still, looking good: we boarded with only ninety minutes delay and I had the upgrade. My work out was still in good shape.
And then some guy a grown man in coach threw up on a lady six rows behind him. Why he was six rows behind his assigned seat is a mystery. Perhaps he was heading to rear lavatory and did not make it. Perhaps due to his illness he was disoriented. But for whatever reason, he threw up on a complete stranger. I obviously did not see this from my first class bulkhead seat, but the flight attendants were all at the boarding door discussing what to do. First, the guy would not get off the plane, and apparently FFA regulations require sick people get off the plane. So a security guy gets him off the plane. Had this been the end of the tale, I would be working out tomorrow and Brenda would be proud. But, alas, it was not.
The lady who had been thrown up upon had been escorted to the rear lavatory by the coach flight attendant, a festive man who brought her club soda with which to try to get the puke out of her clothes. Again, I did not see this but I can only imagine that he brought her a LOT of it, because apparently the lady TOOK OFF ALL HER CLOTHES in the bathroom of the airplane and doused them in water and club soda in order to clean them and only THEN realized that she had no clothes in her carry on luggage. Not so much as a sock. So we could not leave because, apparently, FAA regulations preclude pushing back from the gate when there is a naked lady in the rear lavatory.
The flight attendants met in the front of the cabin and the only male flight attendant surrendered his t-shirt (the one under his regulation Delta shirt which I suspect hed been wearing all day) but this did not solve the naked-from-the-waist-down problem. The meeting in the front of the plane came up with the idea that they would give the lady a Delta blanket, which she could wrap around her waist so we could take off and fly to NJ. Apparently their thinking was that this woman who had paid for the privilege of being vomited upon and then wearing another persons used clothing would agree to wrap a tiny blanket around her lower half, sit like that for 2 hours on the flight and then walk through New Jersey airport to her final destination clutching the blanket around her waist. Call me stupid, but I could foresee this woman NOT agreeing to leave the bathroom for such a plan, and thus our flight not taking off.
So I stopped the now-only-wearing-one-shirt flight attendant and offered to give the lady my clothes. He immediately spied the rational nature of my proposal as compared to his, and got my suitcase out of the overhead compartment. I was faced with the choice of giving her the skirt I packed to wear to the deposition and witness meeting tomorrow, or my work out shorts. Knowing that it would be a bad idea for me to conduct official Scapa business in gym shorts, I gave the lady my shorts. She put on the shorts, existed the lavatory and we took off. Shortly after reaching cruising altitude, the flight attendant announced that the rear lavatory was out of order.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
kiki_michelle:
i'm off to st louie.. be back on sunday 
morrigan77:
Brazil.