Wow. I'd been spot on with the moniker I'd given him.
“I'll talk to the captain. I’m sure he’ll want to land, then I’ll radio into Salt Lake City and let them know the situation,” Larry said.
As I returned to the back of the plane, I tried to think of ways to keep Sweaty Sam calm, and came up with a fat zero. How did one pacify a nervous flier stuck in a bathroom?
Unfortunately, I couldn't recall any previous training on the matter. Perhaps that should be rectified for new stews.
I whispered our plan to Donna, who nodded in agreement. “I think he's crying,” she said. “He's very upset.”
A grown man crying wasn't something I wanted to deal with, but I'd been tasked with it, so I would.
I knocked on the restroom door. “Mr. Jones?”
“Y-yes?”
“Sir, we're almost at Salt Lake, where we’re going to land. At this time, we believe it's best for you to remain in there.”
“No! No... you can't do that to me.”
“If we try to break down the door, we're afraid it will hurt you. You don't want a broken nose, do you?” His silence indicated he was actually weighing his options. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice in the matter. “I'm going to stay right here with you,” I continued. “Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?”
“I'm stuck in a toilet in a tin can speeding through space.”
Exactly what I didn't want him thinking about.
“Are you married?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning my forehead against the door.
“Yes. Ten years.”
“And what's her name?”
“Mildred.”
“Kids?”
“Five.”
“How old are they?”
As he listed his children's names and ages, Donna and Marsha hustled throughout the plane to clean up before landing. A few passengers glanced over their shoulders at me speaking to the lavatory door, but I only smiled and motioned for them to turn around. Nothing to see here, folks.
“You mentioned little Mary was a dancer,” I said. “Does she do ballet or some other form?”
“Tap. She's a tap dancer,” Sweaty Sam replied. He grew quiet for a long moment, then began sobbing again. “I may never watch her dance again.”
“Don't you think like that,” I scolded. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
The plane dropped and I braced myself in between the two walls.
“We're going to crash,” Sam muttered. “I'm going to die in a toilet.”
“It's just a little turbulence,” I spoke soothingly. “We get it often flying into Utah. It's nothing to worry about.”
A few passengers squealed at the next bump. The third one caused me to lose my balance and I almost toppled over to the floor.
“The captain has advised that everyone take their seats,” Marsha said over the intercom. “Please make sure your seatbelt is buckled. We will be making an emergency stop in Utah.”
Some passengers groaned in irritation.
“That means you too, Patty,” Donna said. “You better grab a seat.”
“What about him?” I asked, hitching my thumb over my shoulder. “I can't leave him.”
“You're going to have to. Being up and around is a hazard, not only to yourself, but to everyone around you.”
Pretty rich coming from the drunk stew, but I wouldn't argue. I turned back to the restroom. I couldn't remember Sweaty Sam's last name. “Sir? I need to sit down now. I advise you to do the same.”
As the plane jumped again, I made my way over to the jump seat Donna had pulled out for me, steadying myself on the walls.
When I reached it, I quickly snapped the belt and shut my eyes. I had full faith in our captains to land us safely but turbulence was the one thing I really hated about flying because I became ill with motion sickness so easily. My stomach rolled with the plane. Thankfully, I hadn't had anything to eat. If I had, I may have lost it all over the galley.
From the lavatory, I thought I heard prayers being whispered.
I didn't blame him. The plane leapt around like a wayward soccer ball. I’d been on plenty of rough flights, but the aircraft seemed out of control as it bounced. Despite my confidence in the captains, I considered that we may die.
It never hurt to pray so I sent up a silent request that our lives be spared. I didn’t want to die in an airplane crash.
Chapter 20
Once our wheels touched down and we came to a halt, it seemed like everyone gave one collective sigh of relief. Donna and I traded weary smiles. We hadn’t died.
“That was a rough landing,” she said. “I actually feel a little queasy.”
“Me, too. “I better check on our bathroom guest.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood, as did Donna. While she fetched coats and helped people retrieve their bags from the overhead bins, I tried to stay out of the way. Unfortunately, with the bathroom door being out of order, everyone would have to debark and the airline would find us another plane to take to San Francisco. It was going to be a long afternoon, and if we didn’t arrive back home until late night, it would be no surprise.
“Sir?” I tapped on the door.
No answer. I couldn’t recall his last name. Forget formalities.
“Sam?”
Again, I was met with silence.
What if he’d died from an anxiety induced heart attack?
As the passengers filed out the front, two members of the maintenance crew came in through the back.
“There’s something wrong with him,” I said. “Hurry! We need to get in there!”
We should have tried to break him out. Never had I experienced such horrible turbulence, and I couldn’t imagine trying to ride it out in the lavatory.
As they worked on the panel, I reviewed cardiopulmonary resuscitation instructions from memory just in case I needed to perform them once the door came off.
“How are things going back here?” Marsha asked once all the passengers had deplaned. “We sure have a lot of angry customers over this.”
“Over
