It was the day New York experienced a tornado. This natural disaster was befitting, because it matched the day I had. The last flight, on the last day of my multiple day trip rendered me folding my legs on my chest, with my arms wrapped around them, rocking myself on my jumpseat while singing “What a Friend we have in Jesus” over and over again.
September 16 was a god-awful day! Obama’s plane, Air Force 1 flew into JFK and shut down the airspace. For more than an hour, no plane could take off or land or even fly over the Kennedy airspace. When our plane finally got clearance to taxi off the gate all hell broke loose in the sky. Suddenly the heavens grew dark, high winds started beating against the ‘plane, then the heavy rains came. There was a collective groan in the cabin and I whimpered inside because I knew I was not going home anytime soon.
We sat on that runway for two and a half hours, eventually returning to the gate to refuel and give passengers an opportunity to leave the ‘plane. Until now, a one-legged lady and her husband sitting in ‘Row 1′ were a mild annoyance. One Leg’s husband’s toupée looked ridiculous; the back was sticking up and front was tilted to one side, so it was askew, and asking for snickers.
“Miss, where do you plug the headset in?”
“Miss, my TV doesn’t work!”
“Why did we leave in all this rain?”
“When can I get a scotch and soda?”
“The weather has cleared, why are we still stittin’ here?”
“That Obama, I didn’t vote for him for this exact reason!”
Really?? You knew two years ago that the president’s plane would delay your flight? Wow? How about tomorrow’s winning lottery numbers?
“Now I understand why that guy took the beers and went down the slide!”
“Speaking of which can I get a scotch and soda?”
Our pilots timed out. Pilots can only fly eight hours a day and this delay had pushed our pilots beyond their eight hour duty day. Everybody had to deplane, but not before I got trampled by a muscular Dominican dude who yelled that he was hungry and we couldn’t keep him “prisoner” – mind you the door was open the entire time.
We were waiting on One Leg’s wheelchair to arrive so she and her husband could deplane. She made her third plea for a scotch and soda. Her husband promptly announced that he was going to get her one. Despite the fact that we told him that it was against FAA policy to bring opened alcohol on board, he ignored us. Apparently the rules didn’t apply to him. He adjusted his toupée before he left.
Shortly after this, I went up to the gate to check on One Leg’s wheelchair. I passed toupée with drink in hand. I shook my head, “Sir I can’t believe you just did that,” was all I said. I shook my head because I knew this move bought them a ticket on the next flight to Orlando, not mine.
When I returned to the aircraft the inflight supervisor was physically blocking toupée’s entrance. Toupée had a cane, but I’ve never seen an old man move so fast with a cane. He faked to the right then went left around the supervisor. His moves were like those in a World Cup final match, the drink was the ball and getting it to One Leg was his goal. Toupée had some fancy footwork. But the supervisor was not to be outdone, she pedals backwards and swiftly blocks the handoff. One Leg had her arms outstretched, eyes intent on her scotch and soda, licking her lips in anticipation of them meeting the glass’ rim, as she sipped the sweet nectar of the gods.
“Sir you CANNOT do this!” says the defender, I mean supervisor. She looked at me and said, “Call the ground security.”
She could take this old man if needs be. I was not letting a moment of this pass me by. Suddenly One Leg waives her arms and yells, “Throw it! Throw it!” Tupee rears back as if he was actually going to throw the open drink, but supervisor blocked him again like an astute defender to stop this illegal pass.
By the time One Leg’s wheelchair arrived, the police were at the gate. But that didn’t stop this old couple from being quite abusive. I heard from the gate agent that One Leg ripped off the corporate security officer’s ID from off his neck and toupée poked another officer with his cane.
SMH. Old folks – aren’t they just adorable?!
- The Horrors of Hypochondria! (Yaadinfo Blog)
- Another Episode of ‘The Aquadilla Hill-Billies’ (Yaadinfo Blog)
- 12 Travel Freakouts and Airport Tantrums (rawjustice.com)
- Sparks flying, wing aground, NYC flight lands safe (thenewstribune.com)
- FAA proposes rules to crack down on pilot fatigue (msnbc.msn.com)