Flying The Crazy Skies
I FLEW BACK FROM FLORIDA YESTERDAY…and, boy are my arms tired. Not from flapping them like wings, but from dealing with a crazy person on the plane.
For some strange reason Southwest Airlines figured out that it would be good business to have a flight from Fort Lauderdale to Indianapolis at 6:30 AM. What??? I don’t get it either. At that time of day you are only going to have customers who have been drinking all night, an assortment of crazy people, and a few folks who are so strung out they don’t know what planet they are on. Oh, yeah, and then there was me just trying to get back to Terre Haute (That’s French for, “That woman is crazy.”)
A 6:30 AM flight boards at 6:00 AM. I had to return my rental car so push back my arrival time at the airport another half hour. We are now talking about Official Werewolf Time. Why do I do these things to myself? For a ticket that is half the cost of the flight at 9:30 AM that’s why.
So here I am at Gate A-4 at about 5:30 AM. Looking about I can see three other people; the Southwest Agent at the desk, and two young women who are getting ready to open up the Starbucks on the other side of the empty concourse. I’m the only one who looks like I’m planning on going anywhere.
AND THEN SHE COMES LURCHING IN MY DIRECTION.
She is a woman in her 40s – some hard 40s. She has enough blonde hair to make Dolly Parton jealous. She also had a large purse out of which she pulls a Boarding Pass for my flight. Damn.
She also had a look in her bloodshot eyes that screamed, “I am drunk. I’m also stoned, strung out, and completely unstable. Bartender!”
When she arrived at Gate A – 4 she glommed onto the desk agent and bent here ear for a good ten nonstop minutes. I credit the desk agent for staying calm and keeping Crazy Lady occupied. Then the Southwest Flight Crew arrived and things began to go seriously downhill.
The Pilot, who looked like a Pilot; tall slim, and graying hair had his crew with him and it was then that the Blonde Liquor Bottle shifted her focus. She stepped in from of the Pilot and wanted to shake his hand. The Pilot didn’t miss a beat. He shook her hand and looked over at the desk agent who shrugged and rolled her eyes. Then the Crazy Lady watched one of the female flight attendants walk past. She gave her a hard stare and then loudly asked the Pilot, “Is she your Woman?” He replied calmly, “No, she’s my flight attendant.” He then beat feet out of there and onto the airplane.
By this time a few more passengers showed up, but stayed as far as possible away from this scene.
TIME TO BOARD: The agent starts to make the following announcement: This flight is far from full. In fact there are only 30 of you flying with us this morning. S0…we need you all to spread yourselves throughout the plane. It’s all a matter of weight and balance. If you all try to sit in the first few rows this plane, well we will never get off the ground.”
Thirty people in a Boeing 737 with a capacity of 175 passengers.
Crazy Lady moved over next to me. She was crying. That announcement scared the Meth out of her. I tried to tell her that she would be fine, but who knows what she heard. She calmed down a bit when she opened her purse again to show me her “Lucky Buckeye” – a shriveled up, moldy old buckeye. Why was I not surprised?
They boarded her first and when I got on she was bust showing her “Lucky Buckeye” to everyone. They put her in a seat right up front which was my cue to keep moving to the back of the plane.
Two hours and 27 minutes later all 30 of us landed in Indianapolis. I was the last person to get off the plane, greeted by a not surprising scene. Just outside the Jetway our Crazy Lady was having a conversation with the head flight attendant (Not the Pilot’s Woman) and two large and heavily armed members of the Indianapolis Police.
I kept right on walking. There was no way I could improve the situation for anybody. I am sure that our Crazy Lady, who somehow got through Security in Florida, was not going to enjoy her stay in Indianapolis.