“It's fine, sir,” I said, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. “We're here to make sure you have a wonderful, relaxing, and very safe flight. May I take your coat and fetch you something to ease your nerves?”
Two beers later, he slept soundly, and I prayed there wouldn't be any turbulence. People like him really got upset and afraid, making the flight difficult for the crew and everyone around him.
After takeoff, we prepared the lunch—seared salmon or baked chicken with rice and a salad. Once cleanup was over and all my customers seemed content, I hurried back to check on Donna.
“How's it going?” I asked, sidling up to her in the galley.
“Great!” she said, smiling while lining up glasses on a tray.
“You feeling okay?”
She nodded but didn't meet my stare. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “Have you had more to drink?” I whispered.
“I'm fine,” she hissed. “Go back to your customers.”
With a sigh I shook my head. I could smell the alcohol.
“Donna, you can't drink while you're working.”
“What am I supposed to do? The man in 20-A asked me to join him, so I did. No one noticed. It's fine.”
I almost replied, but then I noted someone was in the bathroom. The last thing we needed was a passenger listening in on our conversation, but I was quite irritated with my friend.
If something were to happen with our plane, Donna's drinking was not only a safety hazard to the customers, but also to the crew. Everyone needed to be firing on all cylinders, so to speak. Any lingering doubt I'd had about speaking to her in regard to her drinking flew out the window. We'd be having a long chat when we landed and rested at home.
Just as I turned to walk up the aisle back to my own station, a voice called from the restroom. “Hello?”
I placed my ear against the door. “Yes, sir?”
“The... uh... the door won't open.”
Donna and I exchanged glances.
“Sir, did you unlock the door?” I asked as Donna slid past me to deliver her drinks.
“Y-yes. It's jammed. I've been trying to get out of here for at least ten minutes. Please. Help me!”
While I pushed and pulled on the door, some of the customers in the back row offered to help. Donna asked they remain in their seats. Having a bunch of people up and about would lead to injuries if we ran into turbulence.
“Can you open it?” the man asked.
I thought I recognized the trembling voice but wanted to double-check I was correct. “I'll be right back.”
“Don't leave me in here!”
“I'm going to find someone to help, sir. Just one moment. Try to relax.”
As I hurried up to the front of the plane, I passed Sweaty Sam's empty seat and groaned. The one person who was already a nervous wreck was now trapped in the bathroom.
“What's going on?” Marsha whispered as I rushed into the galley.
“There's a man trapped in the back bathroom. He was scared to fly to begin with, and now he can't open the door.
Marsha closed her eyes and sighed. “I knew this trip was going too smoothly. We better fetch one of the pilots and see if they can somehow finagle that thing open.”
I knocked on the cockpit door and stuck my head in when summoned. The controls never failed to amaze me. How they kept track of what all the buttons, switches and dials did, I'd never understand.
“What's up, Patty?” Large Larry asked, turning to me.
“We have an issue in the back bathroom. One of the customers can't get the door open.”
“Sounds like a job for you, Larry,” the captain said with a chuckle. “If anyone's strong enough to break down that door, it's you.”
“I'll have a look,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. He couldn't stand at his full height in the cockpit, so he remained hunched over.
He followed me down the aisle, saying hello to a few passengers. With his uniform and size, he cut an impressive figure. Once we reached the back, he smiled at Donna who was preparing another tray of drinks. If I remembered correctly, they'd had a fling in the past and it had ended on pleasant terms.
“Sir,” Larry called. “My name's Larry Goodwin. I'm the co-pilot and I'm going to see what I can do to get you out of here.”
“T-thank you.”
Larry pushed and pulled on the door, just as I had, then shook his head. He motioned for me to follow him to the front.
“That door folds inward, toward the passenger,” Larry said quietly as we huddled together in the galley. “I could break it, but I'm wondering if it's best just to keep him in there until maintenance can take it off and free him. If I push too hard, it could fly inward and hurt him.
The lavatory didn't offer any room for Sweaty Sam to move out of the way. A person could stand, or they could sit. Chances were good that if Larry broke the door, he may break Sweaty Sam's face as well.
Shaking my head, I pursed my lips together. “We can't take that risk. He's a nervous flier, which makes this all the worse.”
Larry sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think? Leave him in there and hope he doesn't have a heart attack, or let me break the door and hope we don't smash his nose?”
Marsha had been rushing in and out of the galley, working around us to serve the customers. She set down her tray and joined us. “We’re close to Utah, aren’t we?”
Larry nodded.
“I think we should leave him and make an emergency landing. Patty, you stand next to the door and try to keep him calm. Donna and I can start cleanup a little early and finish it without you. Breaking in the door is only going to cause more commotion and stress for the rest of the passengers.”
She had a valid point.
Pulling out
