Crack is Whack, Especially on an Airplane.
So a few days ago I only had 2 legs to get home and finish my hellish 4-day long Thanksgiving trip. Those in “the biz” are well aware of how the shit always seems to hit the proverbial fan on what we call “go home day”.
It’s Murphy’s Law, and Murphy was obviously a huge asshole.
Anyway, the aircraft is boarded (and of course completely full – fuck you holiday travelers!) and we are soooo ready to get the hell out of there…and just as we are about to close the door (thank you baby Jesus!!) in slowly strolls the typical late douchebag. I will try my hardest to describe this guy. He was probably in his mid-fifties (but looked 70+), and was a hot disheveled mess. He had longish, shaggy & greasy hair, was wearing a flannel shirt, dirty jeans, and a beautiful black leather FANNY PACK straight out of a 1982 Penny’s catalog . The best way I can describe this hot mess, is that you would totally see him on a Law and Order: SVU episode living under a bridge and being interviewed by detectives Benson & Stabler.
Upon close examination I deduce that he is not intoxicated, but only bat-shit crazy…and very unkempt. Not a crime. During the last few minutes of preparing to close the door, etc., his open and overflowing bag starts to lose all of its contents while he is attempting to stow it; an apple, change, random papers, receipts, you get the idea. Shit is just falling out, covering the floor of the aisle, and naturally I’m trying my damnedest not to bust out laughing (or punch the fucker). My inner voice is screaming BE PROFESSIONAL! which can be incredibly difficult most days, but whatevs.
We finally get the hell out of dodge and begin our beverage service. Naturally the guy asks for an alcoholic beverage (SHOCKING!), and I tell him “no”. He asks “Oh, so you don’t have ANY alcohol on the plane”? My answer: “That is correct”. No big deal, he doesn’t throw a fit – but the passengers on the other side of the aisle about are about to give birth to a cow. “YOU DON’T HAVE ANY ALCOHOL”? they ask. I look at them, give a little wink and quietly mouth the words, “yeah, we do” while nodding my head. They were picking up what I was putting down, and I ever-so-slyly sneak them a few drinks so that whatshisface couldn’t see. All is well.
After completing our various in-flight duties, we start our descent. I am in the back galley and start heading up to the front, when all of a sudden the shit hits the fan. I look up and I see the the dreaded flashing red light and hear the now activated smoke alarm ringing loudly throughout the cabin. It looks and sounds horrific as it is nighttime and pitch black… so naturally everything is amplified by 100x. I about shit myself right there (as do the passengers), but I hustle my ass up front (my inner voice is now yelling: HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS! Fire+Plane=FUUUUUCK!), as I am looking foward hauling balls up front I notice the bat-shit crazy guy is stumbling out of the lavatory. I immediately grab the halon fire extinguisher, pull the pin and start ripping apart the lav. I ransack the shit out of it. Of course all the while I am yelling at the guy “WHAT DID YOU DO?” “WHERE DID YOU PUT THE CIGARETTE?”
Well, after seeing the smoke and smelling the nastiness permeating throughout the front of the plane I soon realized that it wasn’t a cigarette. My ex-cop self kicks in and I start yelling, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO”?? His reply (wait for it.…): “I caught my hair on fire”. Me: “WHAT. THE. FUCK.” Of course I start all the ex-cop questioning and he explains, “I was in the bathroom trying to find something in my bag (bag=beautiful black 1982 Penny’s catalog leather fanny pack) so I used my lighter to see”. Me: “You used a lighter to see in a LIT bathroom? I don’t think so” “Try again, dude”. I grab the flashlight, shine it on his head – and he was right. He burned most of the hair on the top of his head off. Me again – WHAT. THE. FUCK. You know that distinct burnt hair smell? Yeah, it’s fucking disgusting and is wafting throughout the front of the cabin. The top of his head is basically smoking at this point.
After a few large men in uniform carrying guns (a.k.a. the po-po), take him off the plane (all the while he is asking if he is going to make his connection while we taxi in – BWAHAHAA!!) it is discovered that he had a crack pipe on his person.
So yeah, the bottom-line; THIS ASSHOLE WAS SMOKING CRACK ON THE PLANE IN-FLIGHT AND CAUGHT HIS HAIR ON FIRE.
P.S. I soooo deserve a fucking raise. Kthx.
P.P.S. My captain was stuck in security at the same airport prior to this flight for 35 minutes whilst they ransacked HIS bag. Yes, the captain flying the fucking plane. But yeah, the crack pipe held by the obviously bat-shit crazy & disheveled guy got through no prob. Oh the irony.
Thank you TSA!! Great job!
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