While in cruise, on a back-of-the-clock flight from Melbourne to Honolulu, Captain “Filthy” Farnsworth and I decide the time was right to play a joke we had all ready, just waiting for the right new-hire flight attendant to show up. Now we had one.
I’ve disheveled my appearance, dampening my face and hair, generally making myself look sick. Then Filthy calls this new hire up to the cockpit, pointing out my condition. “He’s sick.”
This lady became immediately concerned with my illness. “What was the problem? What could she do? How did it happen?”
Farnsworth tells her that I had eaten something bad, that I was very sick, and anything she could do to ease my condition would be much appreciated, since he’s busy with the plane. She leaves the cockpit to gather up anything she thinks might help me out.
Meanwhile, in the cockpit, we’ve taken my uniform hat, lined the inside with a shower-cap to protect it, and dumped a steaming hot can of chili into it.
When the girl returned, I seemed to be in the final stages of up-chucking into the hat. Her look was one of grave concern. Filthy commented that hopefully I would now be feeling better, having vomited, and would she please take the now brimming hat out of the cockpit, “dispose of this for us will you?”
Averting her eyes, she reaches out and gingerly takes the hat from my lap. Just as she starts to withdraw, Filthy stops her, grasping her wrist. He peered curiously at the mess in the hat. Looking directly into her eyes he says, “Christ, this whole thing has made me hungry!” With that, he sticks two fingers into the chili, and starts eating.
The girl’s shade of green can’t be accurately described. Gagging several times, covering her mouth with both hands, she groaned and took off for the lavatory like her ass was on fire.
For the rest of the trip she was totally out of commission. Curled up on a blanket in the rear galley, she took some hot tea and a sleeping pill, getting up only to go to the lavatory every hour or so, continually proclaiming, If I live to make it back to Honolulu, I will tender my resignation immediately upon arrival!”
“Pretty formal speech for a sick young lady.” I tell her, “I’d be saying I fuckin’ quit!” I can’t get her to laugh.
She didn’t quit, and she’s still with Continental, a little older and wiser to the shenanigans of pilots.
A few years later, when I was a co-pilot on the 747, I ordered the fish for my meal. One of the flight attendants brought up my tray, with the main course plate covered in foil, which is common practice.
Removing the foil covering, I am staring at the bony skeleton of a fish. My face must have reflected my puzzlement, my mouth hanging open. I’m surrounded in laughter and the joke’s on me this time, as I look back into the face of that flight attendant from long ago.