Is That You?

I flew back from Philly this afternoon and just finished receiving my crazy, sloppy doggy kisses and hugs. Despite Philly-style traffic and ramp closures on the Schuykill (also lovingly called the Sure-Kill) Expressway, being viciously wanded in my most private of areas, and having my carry-on bag contents splayed on a table for all to see to my garments, I made it here in one piece. Now for a regular flight, all of the events previously mentioned could be blog-worthy, but this was no ordinary flight… (FYI – I wanted to get this out as soon as I got back, so this was published through jet lag and starvation, if you are reading it before its edited, I apologize:)

While I was waiting to board the plane, I found myself next to a very obnoxious, pretentious and rude middle-aged gentleman that took major issue with using his indoor voice in the terminal. He spent the entire 10-15 minutes I waited to board rambling on to whomever had the unfortunate circumstance of being on the other side of the phone, that his office staff was completely incompetent, that they were all a bunch of idiots, and that he was rethinking his decision to leave because of their disorganization. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out that this guy was obviously some sort of physician, an arrogant one, but a health care provider nonetheless.

Upon boarding the plane I noticed that Dr. Jerkasaurus was sitting in the aisle behind mine on the opposite side of the plane. He continued to berate and belittle his phone companion up until we started taxiing onto the runway. Butterfinger’s empty seat was filled by a pleasantly plump grandmother toting her 4 month old grandson, whom I helped stuff her items into the over head compartment and entertained the little guy for a bit while she was getting situated. The flight attendants were friendly, my other plane neighbors were kind, and I tardily departed the “City of Brotherly Love” with no major issues; side note- the angel baby did not cry the entire plane ride.

About 2 hours into the flight, Dr. Jerkasaurus got up from his seat and walked into the aisle. He was carrying his shoes with him and was attempting to slip them on right next to where I was seated when… BOOM! His eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out, face first, right into the airplane floor. In addition to hitting the ground like a ton of bricks, his skin was completely white, clammy, and he lacked any sort of muscle tone or reflexes. The other aisle passengers and myself attempted to wake the man, and at this time I also checked to see if he had any sort of medical wristband or necklace. I also found his pulse and made sure he was breathing. After a minute or so, his pale, ill body rolled around and laid on a pillow while the flight attendants called over the intercom for medical assistance from any physician on board.

Within a few seconds a kindly, older man appeared from the first class cabin (I was seated in bulkhead right at the divide between coach and first class), identifying himself as a physician, and asking us some questions about how the fall happened. As soon as he got down to check the man’s pulse and respirations, Dr. Nice immediately realized he knew this man, it was his colleague, Dr. Jerkasaurus! As it turns out, the two doctors were on their way to a conference in San Diego for spinal cord injuries. Dr. Jerkasaurus is a neurosurgeon and Dr. Nice is an orthopedic surgeon, and they both practice out of Philadelphia. And as quickly as the fainting phantom hit the deck, he was back on his feet again, standing in the first class cabin, talking medicine with the associate that came to his aid.

The rest of the flight was calm, with the exception of the major unrest that disrupted when the flight attendant announced that they were out of food for purchase items (I myself was amongst those revolting due to the lack of snack boxes). Dr. Jerkasaurus eventually sat back down in his seat, holding it together until the very end, when he almost passed out again during landing. The baby boy peacefully slept a majority of the flight, being showered with his grandmother’s Spanish songs while awake. My iPod was not charged so I suffered through a viewing of Chocolat and started reading my first Hemingway title. Then, right as we were landing and being welcomed to San Diego, a man, audibly upset and utterly confused proclaimed, “San Diego? You have to be shitting me… I thought this flight was to San Francisco!”