Don't Give Strangers Candy!!
For the past 6 or so weeks I have been held hostage by my washing machine. Washing machines are definitely one item that I miss the US counterpart. European machines are MUCH smaller, operate at an alarmingly slow speed and don't appear to have the rinse cycle we're so fond of. The average machine holds approximately one towel and a pair of socks making the "load" feel more like something that could fit into my purse.
This problem has been especially disruptive the past weeks as I have spent approximately 98% of my time traveling for work. The Chinese firedrill of suitcase changes and clean clothes wrestling would make the 24-hour turnaround times in my house a tapestry of swears about capacity and water flow.
But this actually became the least of my problems last Monday morning. My experiences with the "friendly skies" have been at times plused and at others...well let's say not so plused. I was slated to fly back to London on Sunday night at 9pm (after landing back in Amsterdam from Spain on Saturday at 2pm.) I get to the airport on time with my re-packed suitcase (sans clean clothes) only to sit in the terminal for 2 hours hearing about various levels of "equipment malfunction" and "waiting for service and parts" only to hear the flight altogether was cancelled due to lack of aircraft whose wings were actually attached. So I head back home for a few hours of sleep and returned to the airport anew Monday morning for the 9am flight which must now take me directly to my meeting.
Having secured a plane with functioning wings AND crew we boarded and were preparing to push back from the gate when the telltale crackle of the captain's announcement comes on informing us that we cannot take off as of yet due to wind sheers in both Amsterdam and London. Translation "My co-pilot is still drunk from last night and we have to get at least two cups of coffee in him before he steers us into a windmill." nice.
My seatmate looks at me with jealousy as I open my purse and start eating the little packet of biscuits that came with the coffee service which I took from the last hotel I was in. [Note here - I LOVE how you always get a cookie with your coffee in Europe! Not just because I like cookies but due to all this travel I often find myself not being able to eat and sometimes get so hungry I start contemplating my "face cream made with almonds and honey" as a food group. So I've started squirreling away packets of peanuts, cookies, etc like a Granny stealing sugar packets in a diner.] I go against my nature and offer him NONE as I am like a refugee not knowing when my next opportunity for food acquisition will be and refuse to share my stash.
Finally we are ready to push back - dry heaves....uhhh windsheers have abated and we have a window of escape. The flight attendants spark to attention knowing they are now free to point out the emergency exits and we hear the plane start up...then jerk front to back...and shut down.
Pilot: "Uh, ladies and gentlemen we're going to be delayed a few more minutes. It seems the mechanism that lifts the plane up to push us back has locked onto our front wheel and won't let go."
Me: "MOTHER*#!*@&#(!@*#()!*@!!!)(*#(*&_#!
Email to people i'm meeting - i'm gonna be late.
Guy next to me: Do you have any more biscuits?
20 minutes later and after some advanced techniques to release our plane - a.k.a mechanic hitting it with a lead pipe - we take off and the flight to London goes rather quickly. We land and are on the final taxi to the gate when the man sitting next to me starts to cough quite a bit. Just seems like that annoying dry tickle cough you can get and can't stop. ugh. Feeling guilty for hording the foodstuffs from my fellow hostage I try to make amends by offering him a coughdrop. They're the good ones - Riccola cranberry. yum. He gladly takes it but surprisingly it doesn't seem to help. In fact once he's taken it the coughing seems to be getting worse!.. and more violent!! ... what the hell?...Is he choking?!!..Does he need Heimlich?!
It seemed to come in slow motion. Me in my usual window seat looking to my right as the now panicky coughing man fumbles in his seat pocket for something. what is he doing?! It wasn't until I saw his cheeks billow to that telltale full capacity that I realized what was coming. yep, i was getting puked on. My seeming act of benevolence in giving a man with a cough a drop resulted in him coughing on the drop itself so hard he threw up....on me...on the plane...on my way to a meeting.
All I can say is, good thing I didn't share my biscuit.
This problem has been especially disruptive the past weeks as I have spent approximately 98% of my time traveling for work. The Chinese firedrill of suitcase changes and clean clothes wrestling would make the 24-hour turnaround times in my house a tapestry of swears about capacity and water flow.
But this actually became the least of my problems last Monday morning. My experiences with the "friendly skies" have been at times plused and at others...well let's say not so plused. I was slated to fly back to London on Sunday night at 9pm (after landing back in Amsterdam from Spain on Saturday at 2pm.) I get to the airport on time with my re-packed suitcase (sans clean clothes) only to sit in the terminal for 2 hours hearing about various levels of "equipment malfunction" and "waiting for service and parts" only to hear the flight altogether was cancelled due to lack of aircraft whose wings were actually attached. So I head back home for a few hours of sleep and returned to the airport anew Monday morning for the 9am flight which must now take me directly to my meeting.
Having secured a plane with functioning wings AND crew we boarded and were preparing to push back from the gate when the telltale crackle of the captain's announcement comes on informing us that we cannot take off as of yet due to wind sheers in both Amsterdam and London. Translation "My co-pilot is still drunk from last night and we have to get at least two cups of coffee in him before he steers us into a windmill." nice.
My seatmate looks at me with jealousy as I open my purse and start eating the little packet of biscuits that came with the coffee service which I took from the last hotel I was in. [Note here - I LOVE how you always get a cookie with your coffee in Europe! Not just because I like cookies but due to all this travel I often find myself not being able to eat and sometimes get so hungry I start contemplating my "face cream made with almonds and honey" as a food group. So I've started squirreling away packets of peanuts, cookies, etc like a Granny stealing sugar packets in a diner.] I go against my nature and offer him NONE as I am like a refugee not knowing when my next opportunity for food acquisition will be and refuse to share my stash.
Finally we are ready to push back - dry heaves....uhhh windsheers have abated and we have a window of escape. The flight attendants spark to attention knowing they are now free to point out the emergency exits and we hear the plane start up...then jerk front to back...and shut down.
Pilot: "Uh, ladies and gentlemen we're going to be delayed a few more minutes. It seems the mechanism that lifts the plane up to push us back has locked onto our front wheel and won't let go."
Me: "MOTHER*#!*@&#(!@*#()!*@!!!)(*#(*&_#!
Email to people i'm meeting - i'm gonna be late.
Guy next to me: Do you have any more biscuits?
20 minutes later and after some advanced techniques to release our plane - a.k.a mechanic hitting it with a lead pipe - we take off and the flight to London goes rather quickly. We land and are on the final taxi to the gate when the man sitting next to me starts to cough quite a bit. Just seems like that annoying dry tickle cough you can get and can't stop. ugh. Feeling guilty for hording the foodstuffs from my fellow hostage I try to make amends by offering him a coughdrop. They're the good ones - Riccola cranberry. yum. He gladly takes it but surprisingly it doesn't seem to help. In fact once he's taken it the coughing seems to be getting worse!.. and more violent!! ... what the hell?...Is he choking?!!..Does he need Heimlich?!
It seemed to come in slow motion. Me in my usual window seat looking to my right as the now panicky coughing man fumbles in his seat pocket for something. what is he doing?! It wasn't until I saw his cheeks billow to that telltale full capacity that I realized what was coming. yep, i was getting puked on. My seeming act of benevolence in giving a man with a cough a drop resulted in him coughing on the drop itself so hard he threw up....on me...on the plane...on my way to a meeting.
All I can say is, good thing I didn't share my biscuit.
posted by kate at
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
|
3 Comments
