Mile High Club Part 1
My first intimate encounter in an aircraft was an unexpected, and not so pleasant experience…
After being on a morphine drip for two and half days in a hospital somewhere in Seattle and under going an operation that put hardware in a moving joint in my arm, I had a long journey home home to New York, that started with a cab ride to the airport, and a borrowed twenty dollar bill I unfortunately never paid back…
My flight was uncomfortable, bumpy, crowded and warm, as my system began to withdraw from a short term dependence on morphine, and the man next to me showed no sympathy as my arm in a cast/sling lay at the mercy of his his arm rest unrest.
Being sore, and traumatized from surgery, and generally overwhelmed, I probably exaggerated any idea of being dopesick, on my connecting flight to Chicago O’Hare… Nonetheless, I felt woozy, and ventured to the back of airplane, towards the rest rooms.
It was a big plane, with center rows, several bathrooms, both in the middle and the rear of the plane. All were occupied, until I reached the final unchecked lavatory. The last door I got to, read vacant on the indicator near the door latch.
I opened the door, and to my surprise, it was in use. The woman in the bathroom was a middle aged, short, heavy set, black woman. She had short, buzzed hair, and was in totally disarray. The stench from the bathroom was horrific, as I clumsily tried to shut the door and give the woman her privacy.
What I saw was a mentally handicapped woman, using feminine hygiene products in what appeared to be a very messy part of her menstrual cycle. I was woozy prior, but now I was straight up nauseous and totally shocked.
The image I uncovered by opening that door, was only matched by the smell can hardly be described, and it is forever burned in my memory. It was not good.
Like many of my life experiences, it was nothing like the ideas and stories told me in candy coated tales of muse, and I was left in my own version of a mile high club, with my senses assaulted, my stomach turned, and twisted journey home from another mindfuck of an adventure I was led on by a kids bike, with some screwball friends…
