That’s a fairly disgusting post title, isn’t it? I’ve had a lot of airline misadventures recently, but today the day was truly saved by vomiting passengers. I had a two part flight, and takeoff for the first leg was delayed by almost an hour, because the pilot was busy reattaching the plane engines with duct tape (or something). At least I wasn’t going to or through Chicago, since all flights there were cancelled due to a storm. After it finally took off the first flight was really, really bumpy and neither beverage service nor beverage recycling (a.k.a. using the restroom) was permitted.
I got to the intermediate airport only a few minutes before my flight back to Columbia was scheduled to take off, so I sprinted though the airport to try to get to my gate before the plane left without me. Back in the olden days I used to call this “doing an O.J. Simpson” in reference to those running and suitcase leaping television commercials he once made for Hertz. Now of course “doing an O.J. Simpson” has a very different and far more sinister cultural meaning. In any event, I got to my “flights to petit-sized cites” gate, and four small planes were all being boarded at once. I asked the ticket agent if the plane for Columbia had left, and he asked me my name, took my ticket, and waved me through. I asked two additional airport employees which plane was going to Columbia, and showed both of them my ticket stub. The first just sort of pointed vaguely, and the second took my misnomered “carry on” suitcase, which I had to do a “curbside check” with, and put it onto a rolling cart. I boarded the associated plane only to find someone already buckled into my seat. I asked her if she was going to Columbia too, and she said, “No, this is the plane for Columbus, Ohio.” The bemused flight attendant verified this midwestern aeronautical destination, so I got back off the plane and tried to liberate my suitcase from the “curbside check” cart, which apparently triggered some sort of terrorism profiling, which required me to have a lengthy and fairly animated conversation with a TSA official.
Finally I got back into the terminal and a new ticket was issued so I could get on the Columbia bound plane, which, it turned out, hadn’t even begun boarding due to the fact that about half the passengers on the previous flight had barfed all over the cabin, and it was being cleaned. This flight attendant turned the air conditioning way up, distributed duplicate air sickness bags, and refused to give any of us drinks or snacks (and who could blame her?). Thanks to the airsickness of strangers, I made it home to Columbia only an hour late.
–Ann Bartow
