senior citizen

I Have To Pee!

November 25, 2011

in Passenger Stories

A few months ago, I had the opportunity to fly US Airways to DC. Nothing much happened on the outbound from Boston, apart from us getting stuck to the tractor and the slow mechanic, but that was a stupid little thing.

The inbound home was much, much worse. We boarded at National, rather uneventfully. I had had some water at the airport, and felt like I needed the bathroom, but it was too late in the jetway. After boarding, we proceeded to sit at the gate as a woman was reseated no less than six times in eight minutes. She “can’t leave bag” at her old seat. It turned out that she was two rows up, and I would have made some “Shut the hell up and sit your ass down” comment, but she was about 97 years old and disoriented. And I had to pee.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard US Airways Shuttle Flight 2044 to Boston Logan International Airport. The FAA has asked us to remind you to remain seated for the first 30 minutes of the flight, until we clear DC airspace. Thank you.” This was followed by a low budget recorded safety briefing. Thirty minutes of a 55 minute flight. I really, really had to pee.

After takeoff, the nine people in 1st class were served drinks, and we were ignored by the friendly FAs. By now, it had been about 30 minutes, and it hurt with every movement. I unbuckled my seatbelt, when “Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck. We are beginning our descent into Boston. We will be on the ground in 20 minutes. Please stay in your seats.” I muttered curses at the FAA, and tried not to think about waterfalls.

We arrived in Boston, and after quickly thanking the crew, I was going to bolt up the ramp to the men’s room. But, alas, I was blocked. A woman couldn’t figure out how she was to drive her suitcase, and I reset it 8 times in three minutes.

By the time I was in the bathroom, I felt like I was going to explode. You would think that there would be a line, or a weird dude, or something so inconvenient you would set a personal record for “F-bombs dropped in a minute,” but there wasn’t. The airline was fine, and I recommend it, but don’t drink anything before your flight. Save your time and $7 for a shot of beer on the plane.

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It was February of 2010 when a friend and I decided to go and visit a close friend in Philadelphia. The two of us go to college in Texas about 100 miles outside of Houston. We booked our trip a few weeks in advance and planned on leaving Friday afternoon and returning Sunday evening to Houston.

On the Thursday before we were due to leave, we both received calls from Southwest Airlines. A big snowstorm was due to hit the Northeast and they were canceling our flight prematurely in anticipation of the weather hitting around that time. They offer us a refund of our money or the chance to fly out on a much earlier flight (6 am) from Houston Hobby to Philadelphia, via Chicago. My friend and I decided to take the early flights. We departed for Houston at about 3 in the morning, drove the 100 miles to Houston and arrived at about 4:30 am. Our flight was mostly empty and everything went very smoothly from Houston to Chicago, and then from Chicago on to Philly.

That evening the snowstorm hit hard. Being from Texas, any sort of flurry is a weather mystery to me. Seeing that much snow fall over about 20 hours was beyond mesmerizing. Of course, we spent most of the weekend indoors, but still had a good time with our friend.

On Sunday we woke up to phone calls from Southwest Airlines again. Our flights, and all flights out of Philadelphia, had been canceled. No surprise there, the ground was covered in several feet of snow. Southwest then offered us a chance to re-book our flights out of Philadelphia, giving us the option to leave on… gulp… Wednesday evening. As both my friend and I are college students in engineering, we have to get back home as soon as possible so we don’t skip too many classes and miss turning in some assignments. I convince my friend from Philly to drive us to the airport and see if we can get any more options than just sit around until Wednesday.

As we arrive at the Southwest Airlines ticket counter in a deserted Philadelphia airport, there is only one agent behind the desks. I go up to talk to him; then a very irate older man walks up to the counter and begins to verbally harass the agent. Apparently, he needed to get home to Chicago or wherever and could not believe that the flights were canceled (despite the layer of snow outside). The agent stood behind the desk not knowing what to say to the man. It was in no way the airline’s fault that any flight was canceled as no planes were taking off or leaving. But this man must have thought that the agent had solely conjured up a snowstorm to block him from returning home.

The man leaves, still pretty angry and without any alternatives except to wait it out. I decide that I’m going to be polite to the agent who was just wrongly harassed by some idiotic man. I walk up and make a little small talk, joke about the man who had just left. I then asked if there is anyway my friend and I can get on a flight before Wednesday afternoon. The agent tells us that we could wait standby for the next couple of days, but that we’d most likely just spend two days at the airport waiting for seats that wouldn’t be there. I ask about alternate airports, and the agent gets us both on flights the next morning out of Islip, New York on Long Island. It was a sure deal, as we had confirmed seats, and our best bet of getting out of the snow-covered Northeast. The agent then thanks us for being nice, and tells us that he considered offering the same deal to the angry old man, but decided to let him sweat it out since he was so irate and unreasonable.

Now the game became how to get to Long Island? Our Philly friend offered to drive us both, but that was a 6 hour roundtrip drive for her, getting her back to Philly at around 3 am. She works and goes to school, so I quickly ruled that out as an option. Instead, my Texas friend and I started calling rental car companies to try to get us to Long Island. After several phone calls and conversations, we found out that no company would rent us a car for cheaper than about $200. It made sense, as we were both under 25, and the roads were iced up.

We ended up getting tickets on Amtrak to New York City, and then took the Long Island Rail Road from New York Penn Station to Islip. It took about 3 hours and put us in a freezing Long Island at midnight. We took a cab to the airport to see if there was any way we could get a deal on a hotel room for a few hours. The airport was closed, but we did find flyers for a “distressed passenger rate” at a local hotel. It was still about $60 for a room, but it gave us the chance to sleep for a few hours. We woke at 6 am the next morning, took another cab back to the airport and checked in for our 7:40 flight.

The flights were a blur of sleep. We connected back through Chicago and on to Houston, arriving at Hobby Airport at about 3 pm. We got in the car and made the trip back to our college by 6 pm, tired but still laughing about the weekend’s adventure.

I guess this does not really count as a “flight from hell’ as all our flights aboard Southwest were very pleasant. Most of them involved gratuitous amounts of sleep. From the whole ordeal, I definitely learned that the best way to react to a situation that’s no one’s fault is to be patient and polite. Yelling and throwing a fit at the airport is going to get your nowhere. In the end, it got my friend and I back home much quicker than waiting around in Philly for a couple of days.

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Dear Flyers:

As known today, the flying public’s decency and manners has plummeted. This is this case for nearly all ages and genders. Babies who cry and scream, seniors who think they own the place by bossing younger generations around such as having them lift their suitcases and ignoring others or causing discomfort, to kids who kick seats (as well as scream), to the fat and obese flying population whose fat oozes into all the seats.

So firstly, if you are fat there is a solution: Get a diet, show some self motivation, and if you choose not to, well then other people have equal right to deny you oozing into their chair. Now as some people have actual problems (as in medical problems), then if you choose to fly it is your decision to buy an extra seat. If you cannot (e.g. plane is full), try to ensure the comfort of a fellow passenger by showering (very well) and wearing dry crisp clothes and taking your time as this will help you not sweat as much and lower the BO levels and make people at least comfortable being very close to you. Secondly, don’t eat so much on the plane as if it is going to crash and that you need to store fat until the rescue workers come. Thirdly, at least have common courtesy towards your seat neighbour; people will be much more forgiving and understanding.

Parents of annoying kids (aka brats), you are just as bad as the kid. If you are a good parent you can succeed in keeping your child quiet without the use of violence (though in some cases it’s necessary). You may help by being prepared by bringing snacks, games, or even tiring him out (if you have no idea how to tire him out, make up a punishment such as making your kid run around the house for a solid hour before the flight). If you do not then it is your responsibility and you and your kid will face angry passengers wanting to burn you on a cross.

Seniors: You are old, face it. You are not going to be able to lift a 50 kg carry-on bag, so only pack the essentials such as a phone, medicines, money, and so on (if you can’t reach then that is a different matter). Secondly, when you go to the bathroom don’t fall asleep in it; once you’re finished leave and go back to your seat. Thirdly, if you need to walk about for medical reasons do so, but if you are interfering with others then try to be more considerate.

Finally, seat kickers: Firstly it is MY seat, not yours. And “I” CHOSE how I treat my seat, not you. If you are unhappy that I am taking up too much of your space, be diplomatic and civilized (not to mention the most basic “act your age”); don’t start kicking.  Judge the situation and first try to lower your own chair back, and if the chair is broken lie back. Ask the person in front to move it up a little and explain why; if they are uncivilized call a FA. ONLY as a LAST RESORT do you kick their seat, and don’t be a wimp about it – I mean pound their seat.

P.S. All the flight attendants who think they have power over the flight, yes I admit you do but please try to remember you are here to attend to us, not to threaten to throw us off the plane because we asked for a drink. Plus we don’t ask for much, only a meal and a drink. In the event that there is a special problem with seating, just try to swap them with an empty seat (let’s be honest, you are not going to be punished, hurt, or injured and that your decision makes a big difference to the passenger), or try to imagine yourself in our position, thank you. Plus who thinks they have too much power?

Signed – Kyle

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A16. I love that number. As anyone who flies Southwest knows, that’s a magical number. That number means you can sit just about anywhere you want. On this particular flight from Denver to Ont., California, I chose to sit in the aisle seat of the bulkhead.

People streamed past me to further aisles. On the line went, everyone shuffling past, leaving me to wonder if, for once, I was truly going to get an aisle to myself. The thought tickled me. Then -

“Excuse me. We need to sit here.” I looked up to see an elderly couple.

“Sure,” I said, moving into the aisle to let them get seated. He chose the aisle seat, and she the window, leaving me with the middle.

Now, I’m pretty accommodating. Even though I love the aisle seat, if these folks wanted their particular perches, I was cool with that. Until it got weird.

First of all, the gentleman smelled like McDonald’s pickles. You know the cheap ones they put on their burgers? Clearly he’d just been eating one. The smell was incredible, and it only got worse after takeoff. To cork it, he kept dozing off, lolling his head on my shoulder and expelling pickle-breath into my face.

I turned to his wife and asked if she’d like to switch with me. “No,” she said. “It’ll only wake him up again.”

After a few minutes, she produced a newspaper, the crinkling of which woke him. She turned to a full-page ad for the “Portable Amish-Made Fireplace” (the one that looks like a real article). She thrust the newspaper across me and stabbed a finger at the page. “We need one of these! Keep your room warm!” There ensued an argument about portable fireplaces, and supporting the Amish, and wait – the Amish made electronics now?

“Actually, ma’am,” I interrupted. “The Amish didn’t make the actual fireplace. They just made the wooden mantel on it.”

“This article says they made the fireplace.”

“Ah, they made that one part. And truthfully, it’s not an article – it’s an ad made to look like one.” I indicated the giant letters that read “This is an Advertisement” across the top.

She stared at me. Then she tucked the newspaper away, folded her arms, and proceeded to glare straight ahead until the snacks came around. That’s when I got a sharp nudge to the arm and a “Get me one of those cookie things, will you?” Pickle-breath was back to snoring, and I was ordered to “Get one for him too. I”ll keep it in my purse.”

Finally, around 20 minutes of peace. Then – “I need to use the facilities.” All right. “You need to move. I can’t get in front of you.” Mind you, we’re seated in the bulkhead, so she’s got room to spare. Biting my tongue, I climbed into the aisle and stood by.

She used her husband as a hand-hold. He slept through it. When she reached the aisle, she used ME as a hand-hold (no joke, front of my shirt grab), then sort of shoved me backward and almost onto the floor.

Landing couldn’t come fast enough. When it did – you guessed it – Senior Sally held up the whole plane while she tried to get her suitcase out of the overhead bin (where I’d helpfully put it when they seated, and she snapped that she didn’t want me reaching again).

I was taught to respect my elders. Apparently this elder wasn’t taught to respect anyone ELSE.

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