Usain Bolt and Mohamed Atta

A while back I wrote about the conditioned Pavlovian response to the ding you hear when a plane arrives at the gate alerting the passengers that it is now safe to retrieve their bags…I’ve subsequently dubbed this the HUAW factor…well, I feel like I’ve seen it all until a recent trip to Boston.  I’m sitting towards the back of the plane, in an aisle seat, and upon touching down the plane taxis.  As many of you know a plane may pause a time or two on the way to the gate to yield to service vehicles or other planes or maybe just to piss off travelers.  As mentioned, many of you are aware of this and you wait for the familiar “ding”, but on this particular day, on this particular flight, there was a fine young gentleman sitting somewhere behind me who wasn’t aware of these pauses.  Actually, he wasn’t really that young and probably not that fine.  He was probably closing in on forty.  Save your comments oldies. 

Anywho…at the first plane pause he makes a break for it.  Apparently determined to be the first one off the plane so he’s sprinting as fast as he can down the aisle with this big Jansport backpack swinging to and fro and smacking the seats and passengers as he passes.  The reaction of the passengers reminded of that moment when a bride enters the church…the audience hushes and everyone turns their heads in progressive order starting from the back of the church to the front.  A sort of wave of adulation and astonishment.  A collective “she looks beautiful, but is she really wearing white”.  Well, it was sort of like that in that it started from the back of the plane and moved forward, but in this case the heads swiveled the opposite way.  And everyone had the same thought, although in this case it was, “what the fuck?”  Everyone except me that is…I’m convinced this guy is Al Qaeda, but I’m thinking he might have that narcosleepy disease and he slept through the whole flight until the landing jarred him awake.  And suddenly he’s panicking because he’s going to fail his mission, burn in hell or wherever, and become Osama’s bitch boy.  Bin Laden that is, not Barrack.  So now I’m off flying down the aisle chasing this maniac with a plastic fork.  I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with the plastic fork unless he has a fruit cup or something, but I’m chugging down the…just kidding…I didn’t really chase him down.   

So this jabroni is almost to first class and the plane starts moving towards the gate again.  Everyone is looking on wide mouthed in wonder…will he come back to his seat, will they let him sit in an open stewardess seat or maybe first class, or will they just stop the plane until he comes back to his seat.  No movement.  Just an announcement over the intercom reminding passengers to remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign.  A little passive aggressive, but maybe it will have the desired effect.  Still, no movement and then a second pause of the plane.  This time I’m sure the guy will be sent back to his seat, but after a few moments we start rolling again.  Finally, we pull up to the gate and I’m thinking this guy is on to something…and then we hear the captains voice…ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our gate, but do to FAA regulations the jetway cannot deployed until every passenger is in their seat.  Still, no movement.  Then, one of the stews from the back hurriedly moves down the aisle to collect this wayward passenger.  As he makes his way back down the aisle the same bride entering the church head swivel is happening only this time it’s starting from the front to the back and instead of happy, joyful thoughts everyone looks on with disdain and contempt.  “How dare you cost me 45 extra seconds.”  It should be noted we arrived 15 minutes ahead of schedule, but not being one to stray away from the herd I let out a boisterous, “Thanks Jerk” as he passed and stuck my foot out causing him to fall on his face, much to the delight of my fellow passengers.  There was laughter, cheers, and applause. 

And then it happened, the fine young fellow struggled to his feet with tears in his eyes and I realized he was a retard.  At this same time my fellow passengers realized the same thing and there were boos, hisses, and thumbs down signs.  How quickly the rabble turns.  Retard trumps everything I guess.  Defiant, I pushed him down again and called him Mary…just kidding.  He wasn’t a retard…well, I guess someone that makes a mad dash for the front of the plane at the first sign of stoppage has to have a bit of retard in him, but he seemed fairly normal and was oblivious to fact that he was tripped.  He made his way to his seat and bided his time. 

Ding, goes the seat belt sign and up flies everyone due to the HUAW factor including the track star behind me.  But now his path is impeded.  I’ll give him this, it did not deter him.  He did his best Bode Miller slalom impression and weaved his way through the crowd at a fairly rapid pace knocking people around with his massive backpack, undoubtedly filled with organ transplants of some sort. 

I shrug it off and figure he has some tight connection he’s trying to make…that is until I’m making my way through baggage claim to catch a taxi and see him calmly standing there waiting for his bag.  It was actually a pretty funny scene.  He had about a fifteen foot radius between him and the next closest passenger.

So now I’m figuring he has that fear of enclosed places phobia, nutzophobia.  So I head over to him and politely ask him if he has ever been to Carlsbad Caverns?  He quizzically peers at me and says “huh?”  Honestly, I didn’t have the energy to wind this guy up so I just ask him flat out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Why did you sprint to the front of the plane like that?”  He said, “Oh, I have claustrophobia.”  “They can give you penicillin for that”, I replied and walked off.