I am a magnet for plane weirdness.

Weirdnesses of such great magnitude happened to me while on airplanes recently… that it just can’t be coincidence. I must be like a lightening rod for weird or something. Maybe these things happen because I am wishing so desperately for my seatmates to just be normal… and the violence of this wish somehow jinxes me.

Anyhow. So, I’m on the Auckland – LAX flight two weeks ago, about halfway through the 12 hour flight. It’s nighttime, and most people are sleeping in the darkened cabin. I’m watching Get Smart, because, like Everest, it was there. (Truth be told I liked it.)

Then the woman across the aisle from me starts poking me in the elbow. I look over. She is mid 40’s, Indian, a bit overweight but still nice-looking, with a lot of makeup and hair in a dark bob. She is mumbling something to me as she pokes, and starts to stand. I think she is needing help going to the bathroom, so I stand, and she moves over to me, and I say, “M’AM, DO YOU NEED HELP USING THE RESTROOM?” (Like, was I actually committing to help her pee? In retrospect, I do not know).

Then I grab her arm, and she faints. Cold. Her body is dead weight dangling from her arm, which I am clinging to with all my might, quickly realizing she is way too heavy for me to support this way. “Shit!” I exclaim, as I kind of (gently) drop her into the minuscule aisle, which can’t be more than 18 inches across. She falls, kind of on her side, kind of on her head, and I look around to see if anyone has witnessed me giving this woman possible brain damage. No. Everyone around me is SLEEPING! NO ONE has realized my predicament! I am a lone reed in a tide of pure panic!

I press the call button roughly 46 times in one second.
I grab a flight safety laminated sheet and begin fanning the woman at a high speed, all the while begging her to come around.
I press the call button again, approximately 193 times.
My feverish moans wake a nearby couple, who turn on their light. I beseech them to press their call button as Air New Zealand is obviously ignoring mine.
I press the call button again, 19203?3?? times.
I look down the aisle, and see, huddled at the back of the plane, THREE FLIGHT ATTENDANTS, staring dumbly at me, but making no effort to help me.
I FREAK OUT and start yelling for help, conscious that I will wake everyone on the plane and look like a total schizoid, but feeling insanely angry that no one is coming to help me and OMG what if this woman is having a heart attack OMG OMG why don’t I know CPR I am so DUMB AHHHHHH
A gentle tap on my shoulder!
It is the world’s sexiest Kiwi doctor, with long hair, bulgy muscles, and a skintight gray t-shirt. He gently says he’ll handle this (possibly picking up on the metallic scent of fear that is oozing out of my pores, accompanied by buckets of sweat).
A flight attendant shows up, who is at least 65, completely white haired, and shaking. He’s got an oxygen tank, but the doctor’s dulcet tones and uber-sexy goodness have begun to revive the Indian woman. EPIC FAIL, Air New Zealand! I bet if I had CALLED an AMBULANCE, it would have gotten to us faster.
As the Indian woman woozily starts to get her bearings, my focus shifts completely from her to Ignoring the Kiwi Doctor Lest I Look Mad For Him. Hard to do since he’s pretty much squatting with his head inches from my lap.
Eventually the Indian woman is helped to her seat, and the doctor returns to the parallel universe from whence he came.

The moral of the story: Wearing glasses and no makeup is not an acceptable way to travel across the Pacific Ocean.

Yeah, you’d THINK that this would be the most interesting thing that happened to me on the plane. But it wasn’t! Can you believe it??

Jet lag is catching up with me… so I’ll save the next installment for another night.

Cheers, mate…

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