I would not be surprised if our latest
airline antic gets all Skillmans permanently banned from sitting in the front
row of any commercial airline. Though we
meant no harm the damage was done. And really, to offer as an excuse, I think we were slap happy tired from our recent fiascos at the dock and taxi ride, not to mention our six hour wait at the airport.
The first flight of our four-leg journey home
was late in the evening on a small little airline from the island of Tortola into Puerto Rico. It was a fairly small plane that held about
25 passengers. Somehow Mark, Connor, and I scored the roomy seats in row one—a fortuitous arrangement for us, though it
turned out not so much for the poor flight attendant.
The young flight attendant was super nice and
outgoing. We stowed our bags, buckled
our seat belts, and settled in for the short hop over to PR. He then shut and latched the heavy
plane door and unfolded his seat and belted himself in. From his jump seat, he was facing towards Mark just inches away, sitting knee to knee. Of course being in such close proximity to
the attendant, Mark couldn’t help making some random remark to him.
The curious thing is, neither Connor nor I
remember exactly what Mark said. The
only thing we remember is that whatever he had said, it was corny and we began to
laugh. We weren’t laughing at what Mark
said, we were laughing at him, embarrassed that he would say such an well-worn yarn to the poor guy
who had probably heard the joke a million times before.
As the flight attendant stood and reached for
the microphone, Connor and I looked at each other and began to laugh harder. As he began to read the pre-flight instructions, he looked over at Connor and I trying to muffle our laughs and struggled
to remain composed. Connor and I then
both bit our lips as we tried to be serious and focus on his instructions. But when we looked up at the flight attendant
his eyes widened and his mouth began to contort in a silly grin as he tried to
choke back his own laughter. This made
Connor and I bite our lips harder. All
three of us began holding our breath in an awkward attempt to stave off an
impending deluge of inappropriate laughter.
Our faces reddened and our resolves for maturity weakened. Suddenly and horrifically, we were all overtaken
by the giggles.
Both Connor and I looked at each other in a
wide eyed panic, knowing the situation was about to escalate into the
uncontrolled. What made it all the
worse, and admittedly added to the absurdity, was that our flight attendant had
a live microphone now broadcasting his contorted chuckles.
He suddenly turned his back on the passengers futilely attempting to
repress the ambush of giggles that had overtaken him. With his back to us, he gave the impression
of a lead singer of a rock band as his shoulders shook up and down and his body
contorted while holding the microphone up high. Only this was no concert.
Safety instructions don’t sound imperative nor
important when they are read under the strain of laughter. I’m sure the passengers behind us were
confused about the plight of our poor flight attendant, perhaps wondering if he
was having an epileptic fit of some sort as his body twitched under the strain. Sadly, what he was experiencing was a
pernicious rash of childish laughter that refused to abate.
Finally, both Connor and I buried our faces,
pulling the neck of our shirts to our forehead like frightened turtles. There we stayed until at last the poor guy
was able to gain composure, turn and face the passengers, and read the
cautionary instructions with enough feigned dignity to mask his plight. Only twice did he let out a chortle, passing
it for a cough to those unaware, then finally he finished his public safety
announcement.
Having that portion of the flight wretchedly
completed he sat down, strapped himself into his seat, and the plane took off. Connor and I timidly peaked our heads out of our shirts and gasped for fresh air. It took another ten minutes of flight before
we were all able to look at each other again.
Luckily the whole moronic episode was quickly
set to rest. As we were all situated
just inches away from each other, we found the proximity conveniently close to
profusely apologize to him—mostly for the lame comment by Mark, and of course,
for our childish outburst that could have been the cause of his career setback.
Thankfully he was cool about it and we enjoyed
a long conversation about his world travels over the course of the remaining
flight. Connor and I dutifully kept our
promise to not look at him during the final approach announcement. His final broadcast came off without a hitch,
his career now restored.
Chloe thought he looked Robert Downey Jr.
We, however, may never get to sit in the
first row of any flight again. But we
blame Mark for that.
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