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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