No Need To Pass Around The Hat For Gas

Thanks to my full on sprint, I was able to make my flight after inhaling some delicious Denver airport cuisine. Yum!! However, the second leg of my journey from Denver to St. Louis did not go as swimmingly as my flight from California to Colorado did.

It started when I got on the plane (heard this one before, eh?), I discovered that my mad dash was for naught. While boarding, it was announced that ice had formed on the plane’s wings and that the flight would be delayed. Now personally, I am always more than willing to forego a hasty departure in order ensure that the wings are not going to snap off like they’re made out of balsa wood. And evidently the United maintenance crew agreed with me, so we were treated to extra wait time, thereby enabling me to become better acquainted with my fellow passengers. Hurray.

I should point out that with the plane effectively grounded, the fans are not working. I should also point out it’s extremely hot and stuffy on the plane and I just got done sprinting to the gate. As a result, I’m sweating like a hooker in church.

After suffocating for a good twenty minutes, the plane turns its engines back on and the germ-ridden, recycled air finally turns back on. Thank god. As they de-ice (un-ice?) the wings, they announce that the plane will depart “shortly.” To me, shortly means “five minutes or so.” To United, shortly means “some time between right this moment and tomorrow.” After thirty more minutes of conjecture as to the true meaning of the word “shortly,” the plane slowly lurches forward and we are on our merry way to Missouri.

The departure was smooth enough, but I have this nagging feeling that something is going to go dreadfully wrong with this flight. Given the frosted wings, I would gladly settle for “extreme annoyance” as opposed to “horrific death,” but it’s out of my hands now.

My premonition would turn out to be correct. It built slowly, starting with the flight attendant that nearly dislocated my shoulder as she collided with me with her granite hips. How about simple “oops” or even a “hey, sorry about that”? What makes it worse is that I think she did it on purpose. Karma is a bitch, lady.

Little did I know that the karma would come back to bite every one of us on the plane. About halfway through the flight, one of the twenty+ college students sitting in my area unleashed a noxious fart that figured to kill half the people on the plane. Words do not describe it, but I’ll do my best. Let’s see. Rancid flank steak … rotting garbage … curried cabbage … and two-week old road kill. I would say that about describes it. Each time it happens -- and by my count, it occurred over a half dozen times -- I resist the urge to (a) wretch uncontrollably, and (b) locate the unfortunate lad with the case of chronic gas and choke the living shit out of him.

If there’s a sliver lining here at all, it’s that the skunky perpetrator is three rows or so ahead of me so I have the benefit of about 3-5 seconds advance warning before each gaseous cloud collides with me. It’s very similar to “the wave” which crowds at sporting events still insist on trotting out. In both instances, (a) you know you have a few moments to ready yourself before it gets to you, and (b) both groups are screaming and flailing their arms, although I’m not sure that toxic gas is quite as entertaining. Hopefully if I bang on the overhead compartment hard enough, perhaps the air breathing device will fall and deliver me fresh, sanitary air. Yeah, not so much.

The early detection system, however, does nothing to mitigate the odor which periodically wafts throughout the plane. Mercifully, the flight attendant announces that we will be landing “shortly,” but not before he belches out one final mushroom cloud which again quickly fills the cabin. What a generous soul.

We end up landing almost an hour late, but I couldn’t care less at this point in time. I never thought I would be excited to arrive in St. Louis and breathe that sweet St. Louis air. Mmmmm. But as I did, I couldn’t help but wonder what similar fun awaited me on my return flights, scheduled for just 36 hours from now.