The plane ride from hell. I was reminded of this last week when Rosie had the flu and I cleaned out the fridge and got rid of leftover corned beef. This Memory Lane Monday post was originally written On The Star’s mom site a few year’s back. And, it still makes me roar with laughter!
Since we couldn’t get seats together on the booked plane, I gave Rosie a choice, “Do you want to sit with Daddy or me?”
“Daddy!!” she immediately declared. “Your food stinks!”
I made an unscheduled, last minute deli run in Suburban Chicago before we hit the airport. My two pounds of corned beef and tub of chopped liver smelled delightful to me. But, I had to agree with my child, if you weren’t accustomed to the smell of stinky deli food, then it may be unsettling.
“Yep, I pity the guy that sits next to me,” I said and gave Rosie a hug.
I took my seat and looked forward to an uneventful, Hannah Montana movie-free flight. I shoved my bag of deli yummies under the seat and strapped myself in. I was in heaven.
Until I met the guy in the middle seat.
He looked normal when he sat down. Just like every clean cut college student in the world. He threw his backpack under the seat and prepared for the flight. He leaned up to adjust the air and that’s when it hit me.
At first, I thought it was my corned beef so I nudged the bag further under the seat (I would have put it in the overhead bin, but what if someone walked off with my precious cargo?). I moved my other carry-on in front to mask the smell. But it was still there.
That’s when it hit me. The smell wasn’t my deli food. It was terrible B.O. from the guy next to me. I thought I was going to die.
Immediately, I started to flip through my magazine searching for a perfume card. (Usually, I yank them out before I start to read and throw them in the trash, but I needed a snort of cheap perfume. And, I needed one NOW!) But, there wasn’t a perfume ad to be found.
I began to curse my decision to get a Vanity Fair instead of a fashion magazine at the airport. If only I had chosen Elle!! I’d at least have some relief from the stench in the middle seat.
It got worse.
A couple of minutes later, he reached across me to flip open the window with a very polite, “Excuse me.” His armpit was right in front of my face. I was overwhelmed by his body odor. It was going to be a very long flight.
And, it was.
Every time I thought I’d gotten used to the smell, he’s start to fidget. He spent a few minutes trying to plug in his headphones (to the arm rest of the guy in front of him. Why, I don’t know). He grabbed his backpack and looked for a book. He studied the phone in the seat in front of him. All the while, raising his arm and sending his stench into the plane.
When we began our final descent into the Kansas City airport, I was elated. I was finally going to get away from the stinky, smelly guy. I could see light at the end of the tunnel.
That’s when the flight attendant announced, “Since there is a flight after this, please be sure to leave your air vents on, so the plane is not hot for the other passengers.
Mr. Smelly looked at me, grinned and reached up to the air vents. As he adjusted mine, the air blasted me in the face giving me last jolt of his terrible B.O. before we hit the tarmac. I thought I was going to puke.
After we landed, I waited for my hubby and Rosie. I couldn’t wait to tell them about the guy in the middle seat. I figured they’d laugh that my stinky corned beef wasn’t so smelly after all.
“Hey, you guys should have smelled the guy in the seat next to me,” I said as they came up the ramp. “It was the worst flight I’ve ever taken.” I scrunched up my nose and waved my hand in front of my nose to illustrate my point.
My hubby looked a little puzzled. No, make that a little stressed. He wasn’t smiling at my joke. He was holding Rosie closely and walking fairly slow.
“Yeah, well we spent the entire flight in the bathroom. Rosie thought she was going to be sick,” he said.
I leaned down to hug my child. My poor baby had motion sickness. I felt terrible. Suddenly, I knew that my stench-filled flight wasn’t so bad after all.
Ladies, what is the worst flight you’ve ever taken?