I’ve Been Flying for almost Thirty Hours and The Flight Attendants Won’t Stop Crying

Thirty hours ago, I boarded a late-night flight from JFK to LAX. I took off my shoes and coat, placed my bags on the scanner, and gave a perfunctial smile to the tired-looking TSA worker who barely looked at me as I passed through the metal detector. I hate flying, but the holidays are the holidays. You have to go home sometime. Taking my ID from the TSA agent, I made my way down a row of gates and stopped at a small, bland kiosk to buy a sandwich and a bottle of water. The kind-looking elderly woman behind the register tried to make small talk as I paid. I politely answered her questions about where I was flying tonight and how I was doing, but she could tell I was out of my element. Once she gave me my food and change, I smiled and left. She called after me that I should stay safe. I smiled again. It was 11 o’clock at night. The airport was practically dead. The lights hummed loudly above me and echoed off of the polished white floor. The sound was deafening. After a couple of minutes of walking, I reached Gate 42. A sign above the gate said my flight info, confirming that I was in the right place. I sat down in a plastic chair, unfolded my phone, and began to scroll aimlessly. It was 11:05. My flight was supposed to leave at 11:15, and with the way I sometimes got nervous in public, I didn’t want to wait until the last minute. Sometimes I get a little too in my head when I’m out in public. Traveling doesn’t help that. I sat there for another fifteen minutes, scrolling through the same pages over and over again. I saw myself in the window across from me and noticed that my hair was a mess. I stood up and walked into the airport bathroom nearby. I opened my jacket to adjust my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to make myself look like a functioning member of society again. When I finished, I smiled at myself and took a deep breath before leaving. I walked back to Gate 42, sat in my chair, turned off my phone, and began to close my eyes. I was so exhausted. After five or ten minutes, I heard a voice over the intercom. “Your flight is boarding. Please go down the jetway to board the plane.” I grabbed my coat and stood up out of my chair, smiling weakly at the man next to me. He smiled back and we made our way down the jetway with the other passengers. At the end of the tunnel, I gave my ticket to a flight attendant and smiled at her. She thanked me and let me on the plane. I smiled weakly at her again, and then made my way to my seat. I sat down in my chair and slid my carry-on bag into the compartment above me. A man who was about my age smiled and said hi. I smiled back and introduced myself politely. “My name is Bob,” he said. We made some small talk as I loosened my tie and adjusted my seatbelt. After a few minutes, Bob let me go back to what I was doing. I smiled and nodded. Before long, we took off. Once we were up in the air, I took my phone out of my pocket, turned it back on, and looked out the window at the New York lights below. The sky was pitch black, and the stars reflected off of the clouds below us. I lit up a little as the plane hit cruising altitude. I love flying. About an hour into the flight, I decided that I didn’t want to deal with the fuss of asking Bob to get up so that I could go to the bathroom. Instead, I got up out of my seat and walked to the row of bathrooms behind me. I opened the door to the first one, but it was occupied. “Occupied” was written on a small screen on the door in blue letters. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that. I walked down to the next one, but that was occupied too. So was the next one. Shrugging, I made my way down the aisle to the bathrooms at the front of the plane. When I reached the front of the plane, I reached to open the first door, but it stopped after just a few inches. A hand shot out to cover the small gap, and a voice behind the door let out a loud, blood-curdling sob. I gasped. My hand shot back as I stumbled backward, almost falling over a nearby seat. I lost my balance and fell into the chair next to the bathroom, grabbing onto the headrests of the chair for support. A flight attendant holding a cart full of snacks stopped as she made her way down the aisle. “Are you okay sir?” she asked calmly. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” I said, as I stood up from the chair. I didn’t look her in the eye. I was too embarrassed. “But what’s going on in there?” I asked. She smiled warmly. “One of our flight attendants is sick, and she isn’t feeling well. She needs some time to herself.” I smiled weakly back at her and made my way back to my seat, careful not to make any further eye contact. Bob looked over as I sat back down. “You okay there buddy? You’ve been in the bathroom for a long time. You must have had one hell of a shit.” I smiled weakly again and chuckled politely. I didn’t answer. After a minute, Bob turned his attention away from me. I sat silently in my seat as the flight attendants made their way down the aisles, giving snacks to passengers. I didn’t have the energy to deal with their questions, so when they reached my row, I simply took a bottle of water and smiled at them before turning back toward the window. I closed my eyes and listened to Bob talk to the flight attendant. I didn’t pay much attention, but it sounded like he was asking her if I was okay. I heard her respond that she thought I was sick and needed to be alone. I sat silently for about an hour after that. When I opened my eyes, I noticed that the lights in the cabin had been turned off. I lit up the screen in front of me to check the time. I gasped. It was 2:30 AM. We had to have passed our estimated time of arrival hours ago. I stood up out of my chair and made my way down the aisle to the front of the plane. I made my way down to the cockpit door and tried to open it. It was locked. There was an intercom next to the door. I pressed it, and it crackled as a voice answered. “Hello,” the pilot said. He sounded tired. “Where are we? We have to have passed our estimated time of arrival,” I asked. “I can’t help you right now. I’m flying the plane. Go back to your seat.” I stood there for a moment, frozen. I was about to walk away, but stopped myself. “Is everyone okay?” I asked. There was a pause, and then the pilot’s voice came through again. It was cold. “Yes, everyone is fine. Go back to your seat.” I stood there for a while longer. Finally, I turned around and walked back to my seat. I sat silently for another hour, occasionally checking the time on my screen. At 3:33, I stood up again and made my way to the cockpit. This time, I pounded on the door. “Let me in!” I yelled. “You need to tell me what’s going on!” I kept pounding on the door until it opened. A young flight attendant stood in the doorway, blocking my path. Her eyes were red and wet. I could hear her sobbing gently as she looked at me. I froze. She hadn’t said a word, but she didn’t need to. I backed away from her slowly, turned around, and sat back in my seat. I sat there for the rest of the flight. I didn’t talk to Bob, and I didn’t look at the screen. I didn’t look out the window, either. I sat silently, and waited. About an hour ago, I stood up again and walked to the front of the plane. I didn’t stop at the cockpit. I walked to the jetway and stepped out of the plane. I’m sitting in the chair at Gate 42 again as I write this. The airport is empty except for me. I assume it’s the middle of the night. The sky is pitch black out the window. I can see the stars reflecting off the clouds. I’ve been flying for almost thirty hours.

I’ve Been Flying for almost Thirty Hours and The Flight Attendants Won’t Stop Crying

Comments (21) 40438 👁️