Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Flight Attendant Instructions We WANT to hear

My recent series-of-unusual-actual events during a flight inspired the following concepts.

Aren’t we all sick of listening to flight attendants flatly demonstrating stuff we already know while on board a flight? Don’t we all get it by now? Aren’t there things you’d rather know about?

Scenario 1: You sit by a stranger and immediately open your reading material, using the polite, “Don’t talk to me, I’m busy” etiquette. The man next to you starts talking...non-stop. You fantasize, as he drones, about pretending you’re deaf, mute and/or blind. You wish you’d packed Limburger Cheese in your purse, to take out and gnaw on and use big “H” words like, “HOOOOOOOWW did you manage that?” or “HOOOOWWDY, pardner” in his direction. You turn your head towards him with a glazed, drooping eyelid, dopey-look, yet nothing deters the barrage of verbiage. You’re forced to listen and unwillingly communicate, when all you want to do is read...your....BOOK!

Flight Attendant Instructions to the rescue:

“Welcome aboard flight 1313. If there is a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the panel above you. Also, if you prefer to relax, uninterrupted and you’re seating with a “talker,” push the “Attendant” button and a piece of duct tape will drop from the panel above you. Attach it to the “talker’s” mouth (demonstrate).”

Scenario 2: You’re sitting a few rows from a mother with a squalling, wiggly baby. Minutes after take off, the noise pollution ceases, and air pollution commences. Nauseating smells from the now defecating infant rise above the seats and seep out the forced air spigots above you. You ‘will’ the mother to change the diaper, yet the nearest lavatory is near the front of the plane. You imagine the offending odor wafting through the keyhole of the cockpit, confusing and distracting the flight crew. They remove their hands from the controls, flailing their arms, screaming, “What’s that smell?” The nearest airport is wise to the alarm and creates an international distress call. The crisis that occurs due to the raw, awful nature of the “Pouch of Poo” is apocalyptic.

I have to give credit to Fred—this next one was his idea.

Flight Attendant Instructions to the rescue:

“The exit signs are clearly marked (point). There is an instruction sheet in the back of the seat in front of you, describing our aircraft. Also in the seat in front of you is a bag to put your smelly baby in. It has tight elastic that fits (demonstrates by stepping into a sample, pulling it up) under your child’s arm pits, allowing ample room for wiggling. This will enable full, unrestricted movement, while passengers nearby can admire your child, odorlessly.

Scenario 3: You’re still getting an earful from “talker,” and a noseful from baby-stinks-a-lot and the guy in front of you wants to recline. Your senses monopolized and your legs losing circulation, you look pleadingly at the flight attendant for assistance.

Flight Attendant Instructions to the rescue (again):

“Your seat can be used as a floatation device. It can also be used as a Megaphone. Reach underneath your seat (demonstrate) and into the mouthpiece scream, “Sit up, you thoughtless jerk, or I’ll use the baby bag and duct tape on you!”

2 comments:

Car Nut said...

Nice.

Dawn @Lighten Up! said...

YOU are hilarious. Hahaha! Thanks for making me spit my coffee back into my cup, thanks a lot!