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

At the time of this post, I’ve been sitting in my window seat on this plane for almost thirty hours. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve taken off and landed. I’ve slumped across the fold-down tray in front of me, monitoring the flight display on the screen attached to the seat-back in front of me. The view outside my window is black, and it’s pitch silent outside, except for the occasional murmur of turbulence slapping across the fuselage. I can’t sleep. I’m too worried. --- I’d just taken my seat on the plane and buckled up for departure when I saw a flight attendant approaching from my right. She was a short woman with long, red hair that cascaded across her shoulders, the fringe perfectly styled across her forehead. Her bright blue eyes locked onto mine as she drew closer, and I immediately felt like I’d done something wrong. She moved so swiftly down the aisle that her eyes were on mine one moment, and the next she was standing next to me. “You doing okay, hon?” she said gruffly. I was surprised by her gruff demeanor. Most flight attendants were cheerful and obsessively courteous. This woman looked frantic, though. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m good. Thanks.” “That’s good. Glad you’re good. Because you’re going to be on this plane for a long fucking time.” She leaned into me, so close I could smell the peppermint gum in her mouth. “Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. You hear?” I nodded, bewildered. Without another word, she turned and rushed down the aisle, toward first class. I watched her go, feeling a little confused. I reached into my carry-on bag at my feet and fished out my phone. After a couple of taps on the screen, I had my mother on the line. “Hey, Mom. Hey, I’m on the plane. I should get to Miami at around 3:30. Should get to the hotel at around 5:00. Text me if there’s any issues with the car.” “Okay. But… but what’s going on?” “No idea. One of the flight attendants just came over and said I was going to be on the plane for a long time.” “When is your flight supposed to land?” “In about three hours.” “I’m going to look into it. Call me back in an hour and tell me what’s going on. Or text me. You remember when your flight is supposed to land?” “In around two hours. Yeah. I’ll call you back in an hour, okay?” “Okay. Safe flight, baby.” “No problem. Love you.” “Love you too.” I hung up and put the phone back in my bag. The flight took off, the familiar sensation of weightlessness overcoming me. After a couple more minutes, I saw the red-haired flight attendant at the front of the cabin. She was standing on a chair, a microphone in one hand, speaking to the rest of the passengers. “This is Jane, your head flight attendant. We’ll be serving peanuts and pretzels shortly. Because this is going to be a long fucking flight.” My jaw dropped. She’d just said out loud what she’d told me in secret, verbatim. The guy sitting across the aisle from me – an older gentleman with a thick grey beard – looked my way quizzically. “Odd, huh?” he said. I nodded, and he turned back to the Plexiglas wall separating him from the window. After about forty-five minutes, Jane made her way down the aisle again, a cart filled with snacks behind her. It was around this time that I noticed the woman sitting in the row in front of me was crying. She was shuddering with sobs, and her whole body would convulse every so often. “Shut the fuck up!” the guy behind her shouted. I looked back to see him slapping the back of her chair, over and over, as hard as he could. “Don’t fucking hit my fucking plane,” Jane shouted, loud enough for me to hear. She sounded like she was about to cry, too, though she didn’t sound like she was sobbing. No, it sounded like she was enraged. The guy cursed at her and she approached him. “You’re gonna have to get off at the next stop,” she said. “I’m calling ahead. You’re a threat to the safety of this plane.” That was the last thing I heard from them. The flight passed as uneventfully as it could, given that two of the dozen or so passengers were crying. The guy who’d threatened the flight attendant was quiet, but I noticed he was turned around in his seat, staring at the ceiling. He moved his lips silently every few seconds. I figured he was praying. I decided to call my mom. “Hi,” she said. “How’s the flight?” “It’s… it’s actually a little scary,” I said. “What? Why? Did something happen?” “The flight attendants are crying. Two of them, at least.” “That sounds unusual. I’m going to look into it. When’s your next layover?” “About an hour.” “Call me back then.” “Okay. Love you.” I hung up and put my phone on airplane mode. I’ll spare you the details, but the next few hours were the most terrifying hours of my life. The guy a few rows ahead of me actually had a fucking seizure. His whole body started thrashing around, and he let out this gurgling moan, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t. He fell to his side, and you could hear him convulse against the floor of the cabin. The flight attendant rushed over to him, and a few minutes later, they dragged him off the plane at the next layover. I never saw him again. I tried to sleep after that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what the flight attendant had said to me. *You’re going to be on this plane for a long fucking time*. I obsessively monitored the in-flight display on the screen in front of me, obsessively counting the hours until we landed. Still, we flew on, into the night. Those stars outside my window were the only indication that we were still on this planet. I’ve taken two bathroom breaks so far, both after we’d landed and the other passengers got off. The first time I was in there for just a couple of minutes. I took my second trip when I saw Jane, the flight attendant, walking down the aisle toward me. I quickly got up and rushed into the bathroom as she drew closer. I didn’t want to hear whatever obsessively cryptic, sadistic shit she was going to say to me. She moved so quickly, I barely made it in there before she reached my seat. “Motherfucker,” she cursed under her breath as I pushed the bathroom door shut behind me. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I could feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes. The bathroom was so small, it felt claustrophobic. I doubled over and placed my hands on the sink for support. I felt like I was going to black out. I breathed in deeply, and then blew the air out of my mouth in a forceful gust. I laughed at my own reflection. The situation was so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I spent a half hour in that bathroom, listening through the door for any sounds from the main cabin. It was silent in there, except for the occasional hum of the air conditioning. I obsessively monitored the clock on my phone, wondering how long it would take to stop obsessing over the flight display. When I finally left the bathroom, the flight attendant was gone. The guy from the row in front of me was gone, too. The only person left was the old guy across the aisle from me, obsessively staring out the window. I approached him. “Sir?” I said, softly, so as not to startle him. He didn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he spoke in a low, guttural voice. “We’re not in Florida anymore,” he said. “Where are we?” I countered, stupidly. “We’re not in Florida anymore.” I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I nodded, feeling a little like an idiot, and took my seat again. I watched the flight display on the screen in front of me. The hours ticked by at a glacial pace. I looked back out my window, and the stars were gone. The sky was pitch black, and the only sound was the rush of air across the plane, the faint hum of the engines. The air still felt cold, like we were still at cruising altitude. I obsessively watched the GPS display of our flight path on the screen. The cursor moved in random directions across a featureless blue background. I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend much longer on this fucking plane.

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

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