poop

Passenger Frets over Fake Poop Prank

September 23, 2011

in Passenger Stories

This happened a few years ago on a return flight from Las Vegas, but it is still as vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I had boarded and was getting comfortable in my window seat, located pretty far in the rear. The two seats next to me were still open, but it was a full flight, so I knew I’d have company before long. Behind me, and dotted in other seats in near proximity, were a very lively group of people returning from a pharmaceutical sales convention. They all seemed to know each other, and were in fine spirits. One of the ladies behind me clearly had fun shopping in a joke shop, for she was entertaining her buddy with an assortment of gag props such as a whoopee cushion, hillbilly teeth and other fun things.

As usual, the aisles during boarding were congested with people slowly shuffling along to get to their seats. The pair behind me recognized another conventioneer approaching, and some giggling ensues. Then the lady with the gags stands up and, with a conspiratorial grin aimed at me, drops a fake baby diaper complete with fake brown stain onto the seat. I’ve got a good sense of humor, and I didn’t mind enjoying a laugh at her friend’s expense, so I smiled back, but the diaper had landed on the edge of the seat and it slid to the floor. I wasn’t going to pick it up, the jokester didn’t have time to squeeze out into the aisle to replace it, so it stayed there. “Here she comes, here she comes, giggle, giggle,” the prankster said sitting back down.

Well, here she didn’t come. It happened all so fast. The approaching friend sat down one row down and adjacent. Following her was a very large man, not of their group because I heard an “Oh, noooo” from behind me. He swung his bag into the overhead and slid into the row and sat down, a second later shuffling his feet and looking down to see what he was stepping on.

The woman behind did try to get his attention in the split second afterwards, but her attempt was drowned out by the ear-splitting scream from the man as he leaped up and minced around in the aisle as though he had trodden on – well yes – a pile of doo doo. “Sir, sir,” the woman was still trying to get his attention, but a flight attendant was already responding to the commotion and his wrath was turned fully towards her as the representative of the airline who would leave such a thing on the floor of its cabin.

I kept quiet. I had nothing to do with it, and I wasn’t getting drawn in. The prankster finally managed to explain to the FA, and apologize to the man. I was trying hard not to laugh, in fact I was going to – until I saw his face once all had been explained. He did not see it as funny at all and sat there glowering. A glower from the FA at the offender (who managed to retrieve the now trampled prop) was exchanged too. Ah, conventioneers.

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Tagged as: flight attendant, poop

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Pooptastrophe on Plane

November 21, 2010

in Baby & Kid Stories

When I got to the airport, people told me I was “brave” for flying alone with two kids.  I wasn’t sure if I was more brave or stupid, but either way I was flying halfway across the US to St. Louis.  It was going to be rough because 1) Getting to my hometown is never easy.  It’s always an hour or so at the airport, a couple of hours of flying, and then a couple of hours of driving; and 2) My youngest got sent home from daycare yesterday because, as they told my husband, they found her sitting in a “puddle of poop.”  I think they meant it, literally.  (This wasn’t the first day of the runny-poo, but it sounds like this was the worst of it.)   The reality of 5-6 hours of traveling by myself with a baby who had diarrhea was daunting, to say the least.  I wanted to cry, and seriously considered cancelling the trip.

My husband helped me prepare for this adventure by buying size 3 “nighttime” diapers (half-a-size bigger than needed and more absorbent) and plastic bloomers.  My thought was that I could “double bag” her, then wrap her in plastic, thereby warding off any pooptastrophes.  The theory was good, right?  Just in case this wasn’t enough, I packed 2 extra outfits in the diaper bag, along with plastic bags and 2 packages of wipes for clean-up.  I wasn’t going to be caught unprepared.  Ultimately, I had hoped my little one would have her poopsplosion prior to take-off, and wishfully was hoping it would occur before we even left the house (obviously asking too much).  Because I knew it was coming, I made sure all the reinforcements were in place prior to boarding – Double diapered, check.  Plastic pants, check.  Prepared Mom, double check.

We made it most of the way through the flight before “the signs” began, and at the first sign of grunting, I braced for impact.  I naively thought that grunting might be a good sign – like perhaps there was something more substantive to her poo than just liquid, maybe the applesauce and toast were working, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.  I waited for her to finish her business, asked the nice lady in the aisle seat to watch my oldest for me, and politely excused myself to go change the stench.  The baby and I waited a bit before the changing table bathroom was available, and all the time I’m praying “please don’t leak, please don’t leak, please don’t leak.”   Needless to say, I pulled down her britches in anticipation.   I took down the plastic bloomers and saw nothing.  Opened diaper number 1 and saw nothing.  Thus far, very good.  Diaper number 2 was definitely full (and nasty) but it didn’t leak up the back or around the legs.  Five wipes later (yes, five – it was still a mess) and I was patting myself on the back for a job well done.  Way to go, prepared mom.

And then…..

I turned to throw the old diaper away and get the new diaper all squared away when I felt something warm hit my leg.  What the……???  There was definitely a moment where I wasn’t sure what was happening – and then it hit me (literally):  that was poop erupting from my cute little baby’s bottom.  Erupting.  Erupting all over me.  Erupting all over the wall.  Erupting all over the airplane bathroom.   “I can handle this, I’m prepared,” I calmly thought.  I grab the wipes, move the blanket, get her pants out of the way.  Wipes in hand, I start cleaning her again, without regard for the stinky, raunchy poo dripping down my leg AND the wall.  Before I can get the diaper in place, she erupted again like the blowhole on a whale.  Now there is more stinky, raunchy poo dripping down my leg, the wall, the sink, the toilet, and any other surface you can imagine in an airplane bathroom.

At this point the shock of the experience wanes and panic starts to set in.  Now I am scrambling.  How in the HELL am I gonna get out of this one?  I am obviously scathed (as opposed to escaping unscathed, the original plan).  And not only am I scathed, I am dripping poop down my legs, I am standing in poo that has either hit the floor directly or dripped from the wall to the floor (it doesn’t matter how it got to my flip flops and feet, it’s disgusting), and am out of contingency plans.  I am frantically cleaning, trying to get some sort of cleanish diaper under my baby when, as if in one last hurrah, she gives a last little squirt, just for good measure.

Somewhere in all the cleaning and wiping I realize I am beat.  There is NO coming back from this one, as all the preparation in the world could NOT have prepared me for this.  Talk about Ultimate Fail.   I open the door a sliver and meet eyes with the first flight attendant I see – she is nice enough but (as she tells me later) has no kids and can’t deal with the situation she sees before her.  At the first flight attendant’s gasp, the second flight attendant rushes over and I can instantly see she is a mom who understands my plight.  She rushes to gather more bathroom towels and then grabs a club soda for my pants, and in the meantime a lady from the last row has come over to try to help.  I am trying to shoo them away from the toxic mess, but thank god there are some good-hearted people out there who are willing to sacrifice! 

There is literally a “crowd” (of sorts – lots of people peering back to the bathroom, lots of chatter) gathering, and I am visibly shaking.  The baby, tired of laying on the changing table, is now diapered and squirming, her business all completed.  Somehow, she is surprisingly clean – her blanket and clothes hardly touched by the complete $h!t-aster.  The lady from the last row offers to hold her while I clean up, which sends my “Stranger Danger” daughter into fuss mode, so the door stays open and the lady holds the baby in clear view of me and the disaster she created – as if she is admiring her work.

I work frantically to clean, all the while the pilot is calling “please return to your seats for final descent into St. Louis.”  The flight attendant is now telling me I need to sit down because the plane needs to land – can’t she SEE me?  Can’t she SMELL me?  I seriously have to return to my seat?  I fend her off for as long as I can but eventually she makes me go back to my seat, with that little poop beast in my arms.  There are visible (and smellable) areas of stinky, raunchy poo on my pants and shirt, but I’ve managed to clean up my feet and shoes in the bathroom sink.  (I dumped the whole can of club soda on my pants, so I’m hoping that is working to do whatever it is club soda does.)

I make it back to my seat to find my oldest daughter has taken off her seat belt and is just starting to get a little rambunctious – someone had checked on her at least once during the ordeal and assured me she was being good, so thank goodness for that – by this time, I’m counting the small blessings.  I get her gathered up, “enjoy” a nice landing and quick taxi (coincidence?  Or do you think they called ahead???) wait my respective turn to get off the plane, and head out into Lambert Airport covered in poo.  By this time it’s not as visible as it is smellable, but I know it’s there and that it is GROSS, and I get to go to baggage claim and wait, reeking of ick.

I contend that there are flight attendants and people riding on that fateful DEN-STL flight who will never forget me or my poopy baby.  We are the stuff legends are made of.  I’m not sure whether they continued to look at me as brave or stupid, or just a raunchy mess of poo.  And, in case you are wondering (and in case you think I’m exaggerating), the flight attendants were planning on completely closing that bathroom off for the rest of the day until they could get it completely (and deeply) cleaned.  We are overachievers, after all -  we don’t do things half-assed.  Glad my little imp already has that engrained in her genetic code.  :)

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Tagged as: children & babies, flight attendant, lavatory, odor, poop

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The Great Explosion

November 12, 2010

in Passenger Stories

Those of us who traveled in the early to mid-1990s remember the ranch being given away on the frequent flyer programs.  One could actually MAKE points by flying first class on Delta – the upgrade cost was paid back greater with bonus points for BEING THERE.  Costs of a free flight were also less, relatively speaking, than today’s plans.  Due to this, my fellow co-workers and I used to go for maximum points.

First off, this story is hearsay; accordingly, some of the details may be slightly off.  I was not present as my work assignment to San Angelo, Texas, was shifted to Atlanta that one 1993 week.  This story, and I feel it must be smelled, er told, occurred through the eyes of a great friend and coworker, “Robby.”

To give some brief background, Robby was the MASTER at spending either the most time (if it was worth it) flying, or the least amount of time (if it was worth it) working over the airlines.  He once pulled off the envious “DOUBLE” by voluntarily giving up his seat on a Delta flight (earning a free personal flight later) and then quickly jumping on a waiting American flight and BEATING US HOME (as American was a direct flight).  Damn, I am still mad at Robby for his achievements that day, and I heard later he renamed the Double to be the “FU.”

Robby decided on this one fine weekend in our second year (we were still newbies) to go for the “QUAD” to San Angelo; few had tried it and one had actually gotten in trouble doing it as he missed a flight.  The quad is when you go from TAMPA to ORLANDO (1 leg of frequent flyer points), then on to ATLANTA (2), then to DALLAS (3), and finally on to SAN ANGELO (4).  Again, back then (not sure how it works now) you could get max “juice” for such a move (earning free travel very quickly), and if you upgraded to first class, you made TROPICANA proud – er, for full juice… ha ha; right, bad; right, let’s move on.

The problem with BLOWING your entire Sunday pulling off a quad is that not only are you bored but you must eat less than standard foods.  Robby was not one of the better eaters in the company but he could hang.  Only our shared manager could top us.  I will call him Kenny (and hopefully he doesn’t like the blogs too much).  Now, Kenny occasionally would pull a triple but never could do the quad as his wife would kill him.  Us worker bees were all single, young workers in this era.

Robby and Kenny met in Dallas at the HUB – the cul-de-sac where all the TINY planes are parked (for small towns).  You see, San Angelo, despite having the best and most numerous food establishments per capita, was a smalllll town.  You flew forever over dust and small ugly trees (not everything in TX is big) until you landed.  On these small planes, one had a lot of turbulence (and flatulence).  This particular flight was on the DELTA CONNECTION’s ASA prop jobber (never mind that I once threw up in their corporate offices there, different story for a different time) plane that sat approx 11 folks… very small, with a curtain separating you from the young pilots.

NO BATHROOMs; ok, you know where this is going.  (1) airport foods, (2) no bathroom, (3) free from wife to drink a little.

Robby had first noticed Kenny had a small issue as he hit the bathroom twice before they set out on the windblown tarmac to enter the small plane.  Kenny had apparently sampled some new foods; originally from Texas, where they only eat steak and steak (ok, TexMex too), he tried some of that “foreign cuisine” earlier.

Off they went.

Sorry, I have to make a long story short here:

When it was discovered by a frightened Kenny that he, let’s say, “HAD TO GO,” the fellow ‘FEW’ passengers on this flight decided it would be embarrassing to ask the pilots what to do – there was no turning back.

It was then, when the plan was wrapped up for CONTAINMENT, that Kenny turned to Robby and said, “Son, I am your manager so you know what comes next.  We both know a barf bag can’t contain it all.”

Robby: “No sir, I DON’T.”

The one thing I remember from college statistics class is that you often have a few “outliers.”

Kenny: “Hand it over.”

Robby: “Hand WHAT over?”

Kenny: “Your briefcase, F***er.”

To help the visual, you must understand we used those seriously OLD SKOOL accountant cases (huge) – they look similar to old doctor’s bags.

Robby: “Damn, Ken.”

Well, not to state the obvious but the passengers moved FORWARD (i.e. a few rows forward) on this tiny plane.

The Explosion that occurred next remains COMPANY LORE to this day.

- Paul

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Fetid Flight

October 25, 2010

in Odor Stories

Once upon a time on a flight from Germany to New York, around 50 people from India decided to visit their relatives. It would have been a nice flight, but I’m sorry to say that the spices they use in their food is not good for the atmosphere. Besides that, a couple had their little baby with them. Sadly the child was sick. That meant the child threw up and had diarrhea. The parents were not able to –  or would not - put the diaper in a trash can. Instead they put it in the aisle of the airplane. You can imagine what a stink there was during the flight.

To round it all off, we had some nice turbulence during landing. Stink and merry-go-round on an 8 hour flight – pure bliss!

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Tagged as: children & babies, odor, poop, vomit, weather

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No Respect Given to Obese Passenger

October 3, 2010 Portly Stories

Two years ago I booked a flight from New Orleans to Sydney Australia via LAX with United. Now, I know that by most people’s judgement I am considered a “slob” because I weigh 522 pounds. But there is a difference between people who eat a lot and me because I have a thyroid condition that [...]

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A Flight Of Fear, Filth & Humiliation

June 18, 2010 Odds & Ends Stories

Last year I took Royal Jordanian from Bangkok to Amman and back with a group of my friends. Now, I’ve taken a lot of flights that had issues, but this may genuinely have been the worst one I’ve ever taken. I was on a connecting flight from Singapore and had a 6 hour layover. Not [...]

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Disturbed Over Diaper Change

June 14, 2010 Baby & Kid Stories

I recently flew from Australia to the United States to visit family for Thanksgiving. My mother has flown to Australia a couple of times in United Economy Plus, so I asked her before I flew if she thought it was worth it to upgrade. She told me, “Absolutely! You’re closer to the front of the [...]

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Purgatory On The Way To Peru

May 12, 2010 Odds & Ends Stories

This actually goes back to the mid 70′s. I was on a non-stop from Miami to Lima, Peru, and unlucky enough to get a middle seat. A couple of oversize Peruvian ladies, who had just bought out half the stores in Miami, and were carrying all their booty (this was before overhead bins and hand [...]

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Norwalk Virus Hell

April 8, 2010 Medical & Illness Stories

The worst flight of my life turned into the all around worst experience of my life because it didn’t end when the plane did. The background info: I was returning from a friend’s wedding in the Dominican Republic, and like everyone else on the direct flight back to Regina, I had contracted the Norwalk virus that was [...]

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Mother Refuses To Fasten Seat Belt On Child

March 29, 2010 Baby & Kid Stories

When I first boarded I considered myself lucky. I knew it was going to be a very long flight and I was privileged to be seated in the first row of the economy section. The seats had considerably more leg-room that the rows behind me. What I didn’t know was that the airline typically reserved [...]

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