Now for a little diversion. This a true story that happened to John Jackson and myself on a recent flight (Aug 1). You may think its funny (and it is - sort of - if you weren't there sniffing), but I really feel sorry for the other passengers and F/A's.
Sitting in the first row of Economy Class on the right hand side of the airplane (5DEF) was an elderly East Indian couple of about 65 – 70 years old, along with their son who was about 30 years old. There is a curtain dividing Executive Class and Economy Class which was right in front of these passengers. About 1 ½ hours from Calgary, I was informed by the Service Director that the elderly East Indian man had urinated in his seat and had subsequently gone to the lavatory at the rear of the airplane, removed his pants and left them in the sink, obviously soaked in urine. The conversation went like this:
Capt.: Where is he now?
S/D: Back in his seat.
Capt.: Where are his pants?
S/D: In the sink.
Capt.: Then what is he wearing?
S/D: His underwear.
Capt.: You’re kidding, right?
S/D: No. But he’s got a long shirt on, so I guess it’s okay. But we’re going to need a seat cover change. By the way, it stinks really badly.
Capt.: Okay, we’ll send a message to Maintenance.
On descent to Calgary the chime from the cabin rings.
Capt.: Hello, engine room.
S/D: It’s getting worse.
Capt.: How can it get worse?
S/D: Our passenger that urinated on his seat, now crapped himself.
Capt.: In the lavatory?
S/D: No. In his seat and it really stinks back here.
Capt.: You’re kidding right?
S/D: Nope. I can’t get closer than about 2 or 3 rows of him or I start gagging. We’ll do our best to deal with it.
Capt.: Okay. Thanks. We’ll turn the air flow up to max. Keep me informed.
A few minutes later a foul odor starts to seep into the cockpit and I observe the First Officer adjusting the fresh air vents, which I realize is a pretty good idea and do likewise. An attempt at a joke about the situation from myself elicits a comment from John about not wanting to talk about it. Seeing his face and realizing I need him capacitated, at least until we land, I drop the subject and try to ignore the increasingly strong, foul, disgusting odor. The chime rings again.
Capt.: Hello, engine room.
S/D: It’s getting worse.
Capt.: How can it possibly get worse?
S/D: He just stood up in the aisle and took off his underwear and left it on the carpet full of crap.
Capt.: You’ve got to be kidding.
S/D: No I’m not kidding. Then he used the curtain to wipe his ass.
Capt.: You don’t mean the curtain that divides J Class and Economy Class, do you?
S/D: That’s the one. Now it’s got crap all over it too! It stinks from the front of the cabin to the back; can you give us anymore air?
Capt.: It’s already on High Flow. We’ll be landing in a few minutes – as quickly as we can.
S/D: Passengers are gagging. We’re gagging. One of my Flight Attendants has unhooked the curtain and let it fall to the floor and covered it, and the underwear, with garbage bags. Now we’re sprinkling coffee grounds all over it and giving the passengers pillows and napkins with coffee grounds in them, to breathe through.
Capt.: Okay. Thanks. Do the best you can. We’ll get this thing on the ground as quickly as we can.
I looked at John and was about to say something, but the look of disgust on his face convince me to avoid the subject. We were now on our downwind leg and the chime rings again.
Capt.: Don’t tell me it’s getting worse!
This time it’s the Flight Attendants from the rear galley.
F/A: It is so gross back here. You’ve got to give us more air. We’re dying back here.
Capt.: We’ve got the air flow on as high as it will go. It’s the best we can do. I’ve got to go; we’ll be landing in 3 mins.
F/A: Okay, just get us on the ground fast.
Needless to say the taxi in was much quicker than normal. Fortunately the ground crew was waiting for us, thanks to John’s repeated updates and requests to Calgary STOC. As soon as the door was opened passengers were running off, many pinching their noses. Incredibly the son of this couple was one of the first to bolt out the door, abandoning his parents, not that he was much help in the first place. Not surprisingly, when we opened the cockpit door almost all of the passengers were already off the airplane. I said good bye to the remaining ones, most gave comments like: “unbelievable”, “disgusting”, “what a pig”, etc.
I had to get a look at this guy for myself, although I debated whether I should abandon ship and find some breathable air. He was standing in the aisle, in his shirt, socks, shoes and turban. The Service Director had his hands up in a stop signal, motioning for him to stay put, as he didn’t speak English and none of our crew spoke his language. There was no indication of remorse, embarrassment, or that anything was out of the norm on his face. I had the feeling he thought all that happened was normal – what was all the fuss about? He wanted off the airplane and was motioning that he had requested a wheelchair and wanted it now. The supervisor we had requested showed up and eventually the crew left him in her charge. The next day I learned that none of our agents would touch him, I don’t blame them, and eventually EMS (Emergency Services) was called to get him off the airplane. Apparently it took 2 hours from our arrival to deplane him. Fortunately the airplane was scheduled for and overnight in Calgary and somehow it was cleaned up and ready for departure the next morning.
Walking through the terminal, I chatted with a commuting Jazz pilot who was on our flight and asked him how bad it was. He said he was sitting in row 28 and almost couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t imagine sitting any closer.
The US economy is a giant Ponzi scheme. And 'to big to fail' is code speak for 'niahnahniahniahnah 99 percenters'
