November 21st, 2007. near 8am. LGA to DTW. Northwest."IT'S NOT NORMAL," he bellowed, a slight cry in his throat. But for his voice, the hum of the plane cutting across the sky, and the hissing of the air vents, the cabin was silent. Several people who had not been jostled awake by the violent turbulence opened their eyes now at the sound of the loud voice.
He continued, "No I fly all the time and it's not normal. Apparently one time--I saw this on the news--apparently one time the plane roof or like the ceiling you know was ripped off because of turbulence. Yeah and one flight attendant got sucked out--she died--but everyone else was fine I think. But I mean, I think it was in Europe or something, like 20 years ago."
[This happened in the US actually, and many people were severely wounded by the flying pieces of metal from the plane's disintegrating body. I remember only because as a child (no more than 6) I saw either the 20/20 special or the 60 minutes feature on the event,which subsequently spurred years of recurring nightmares for me.]
He was loud and nasal, ruddy-faced and gravel-voiced, with his strawberry blond hair gelled into a cock's comb (loosely interpreted). But there *was* something rooster-like about him, with his boisterous morning crowing about our impending crash and the redness of his face.
"Um, ah, sir? You might want to take out your earplugs" hazarded the meek middle-aged man from Grand Rapids, his seat neighbor, "you seem to be alarming some of the folks up there." He nodded toward two rows of college-aged girls, covering their mouths and whining oh-my-god.
Naturally we landed without incident. As we waited for our bags, he wandered his way over to me in a very obvious and NOT smooth way. He tried to start up some small-talk, his face masked with a ridiculous desire to be or appear macho.
But I didn't really hear what he was saying. I was distracted by the noxious smell of his Abercrombie cologne, wondering as I looked at his hair if the use of so much gel caused balding (have they even *conducted* those studies?), but mainly thinking about why he didn't notice me sitting directly in front of him in the plane, scribbling down his nonsense as he spoke it.
As I walked away from him I thought with some satisfaction, "He may think I'm just a piece of meat, but he's perfectly ridiculous. And I'm going to write about him."
