Flying With Captain Obvious  

, , , , | Right | September 20, 2019

(I am a flight attendant. We always get some weirdos at work, but this one conversation recently has particularly stuck with me. Context: we are boarding a flight to Baltimore, and we have assigned seats.)

Passenger: “Hey, can we just sit anywhere?”

Me: “No, sir, it’s assigned seating! Your seat is printed on your boarding pass.”

Coworker: “The seat number is in the bottom right corner.”

Passenger: “Yeah, I saw it.”

Coworker & Me: *internally screaming*

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Aisle Be Leaving Now

, , , , | Friendly | September 12, 2019

(Flying on short notice one trip leaves my young daughter and me seated separately; I am in an aisle seat in one row and she is one row back on the opposite side in the center seat. My daughter gets airsick. After I inquire about changing seats to be together, the flight attendant says to wait until boarding is complete and then ask the occupants. A businessman sits down in the aisle seat next to my daughter.)

Me: “Sir, would you mind changing your aisle seat for my aisle seat so I can sit next to my daughter?”

Businessman: “NO! I requested this seat and if you can’t manage to plan your trip to be seated together, then that’s your problem.”

Me: *rather taken aback at his obvious attack at such a simple request* “Okay.”

(I get up and collect three “barf bags” from my seat pocket and those next to me, and I stand in the aisle next to the businessman and reach over him to hand said bags to my daughter.) 

Me: “Here you go, honey. Use these on take-off; I’m sure this ‘gentleman’ will help.”

(Then, I smiled sweetly at said businessman and went back to my seat. I’ve never seen someone change his mind about a seat change so fast. The flight attendant got a good laugh out of it, too!)

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The Terrible Twos At Twenty Thousand Feet

, , , , , , , | Friendly | August 28, 2019

I am flying home from Spain with my two-year-old son. The airline gave us the option of pre-selecting our seats beforehand to ensure that I would be next to my son.

However, bizarrely, our seating arrangements put me on the window and him on the aisle with a space in between.

I try to appeal to the stewardess but she tells me that I will have to ask the person who was assigned the seat if they will move.

Just before takeoff, a group of lads boards the plane. They are wearing matching shirts. All of them look worse for wear and are clearly coming home from a stag do/lads holiday.

One of the lads comes and sits in the seat between me and my two-year-old. I ask nicely if he wants to move to either the aisle or the window, but he declines. In fact, his exact words are, “Don’t rabbit on at me, love. I’ve had a long week and I just want to sleep off some of these drinks.”

Fair enough.

What follows is what I can only describe as a nightmare to a childless, 21-year-old male with a hangover.

My son decides that this new man is his best friend. He asks him every question under the sun. He tries to get him to play Paw Patrol and help him with his colouring. When the drinks trolley comes around, the man has to help him with his drink as I can’t reach.

This goes on for an hour before I get up and take my son to the toilet.

When I get back to our seats, the man has silently moved to the window seat and fallen asleep against the glass.

I did warn him.

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Everyone Remembers Their First Time, And Sometimes Someone Else’s

, , , , | Hopeless | August 16, 2019

I was flying with my husband for our first anniversary to Paris and I’d never flown before. Unfortunately, we got separated due to a ticket mixup; he sat at the front of the plane, while I was at the back next to this very nice German lady. As the plane began to make its way down to the runway, I began to panic, telling myself I could do this, but as soon as it sped up and began taking off, I broke down crying, my hands clutching the armrests for dear life. The German woman held my hand, rubbing my back until we were settled in the air, telling me I would be all right. 

I don’t know who she was and I know I’ll never see her again, but I want to say a massive thank-you to the woman who helped a complete stranger cope with her very first flight, while said stranger was covered in tears.

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Reaching New Heights Of Friendship

, , , , | Friendly | July 13, 2019

(My freshman year of college, my roommate is an aviation major. During the fall semester, when she’s not allowed to fly, I’m helping her memorize all the checklists. She finds out that I’ve never flown in an airplane before and vows to fix that. Sure enough, in the spring semester, she starts flying and will not relent in her quest to get me to go with her. I eventually agree to go with her to get her to stop begging me. One Saturday morning, we get up early and get ready. She tells me that it’s a very good day to fly because there’s not a lot of wind. We catch the bus to the airport, and she’s excited that I’m going to get to see her in action. At the airport, I meet her flight instructor, I sign the paperwork, and we go out to the tarmac. I’m extremely nervous the whole time. Eventually, we’re all buckled in and take off. It should be noted that I have a fear of heights. Every single time she makes a turn, I feel the g-force on my body and I whimper. I am not enjoying myself at all. Then this happens.)

Instructor: “Okay, [Roommate], pick a crash field.”

Roommate: “Okay… I got one.”

Instructor: “All right, now stall the engine.”

Me: “Huh?”

Roommate: “You got it.”

(She then proceeds to point the nose of the plane up until the engine stalls out and goes silent. The aircraft starts to fall. A few seconds later, when it’s level again, the engine starts back up and we are bounced around for a little bit.)

Instructor: “Not bad. What did you think, [My Name]?”

(I have flung my arms and legs out to try and grab anything to hold onto. It takes me a moment to realize it’s safe to move. I slowly curl up into a ball.)

Me: “I… Don’t…”

Instructor: “I don’t think we should do any more stalls today.”

Roommate: *disappointed* “Oh, fine.”

(I am too freaked out still to talk. I end up looking at the bar that’s attached to the wheel the rest of the trip, not saying a word, and still whimpering at the slightest movement. Until I’m back on the ground, I pray to God to let us safely land very soon. Eventually, we do land, and I bolt out of the thing. I wait for my roommate and her instructor to finish up their post-flight checklists. When they do, my roommate comes over to me.)

Roommate: “So, my lesson isn’t over yet. We’re about to go up again. Want to go again? We aren’t going to stall the engine again. It’s probably just going to be taking off and landing over and over again.”

Me: “No!”

Roommate: “But–”

Me: “No! No, no, no! I’m never getting in that thing again!”

Roommate: *slightly hurt that I don’t love flying* “Okay, I guess. You’ll have to wait in the lounge, then. There’s no one here now since it’s Saturday. You’ll be all alone. And we’ll be at least an hour.”

Me: “Is there Wi-Fi?”

Roommate: “Yes?”

Me: “I’ll be fine.”

(I had my laptop with me since I was going to meet up with some friends to study for a test right after. I sat in the lounge and studied while also messaging my mom and telling her how my roommate tried to kill me.)

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