For some, flying is an adventure, while for others it’s just routine. You never know what kind of interesting people you’ll meet while being thousands of feet in the air. The stories in this article show that almost every flight can have unexpected and funny moments.
The Story:
On my flight, I was sitting next to a girl with attitude: pouty lips, a Dior handbag, the latest smartphone, and long painted nails. When they started serving food, they asked her, ‘Chicken or fish?’ She said, ‘Don’t you have oysters?’ The flight attendant replied, ‘We have oyster-flavored instant noodles. Would you like some?’ The girl made a face and said she wasn’t hungry.
The flight continued, and the girl sat there scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging her surroundings. A few rows behind us, a toddler started crying, and the sound echoed through the cabin. The girl visibly rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Some people can’t control their kids.” I couldn’t help but smile, as if the universe was aligning to make her discomfort just a little bit more… noticeable.
After a while, the flight attendant came back with the drink cart, offering snacks and beverages. The girl, still scrolling, barely looked up. The flight attendant leaned over and asked, “Would you like a drink, ma’am?”
The girl, still distracted, barely gave her a glance. “A martini. Extra dry,” she said, as if she were in some upscale restaurant rather than a cramped airplane cabin.
The flight attendant hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Unfortunately, ma’am, we only have orange juice, coffee, and tea on this flight. No martinis today.”
The girl huffed, “Well, that’s ridiculous.” She snapped her phone shut and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly annoyed.
At this point, I couldn’t help but speak up. “You know, I think the last time I had a martini was on a flight from Paris. It was terrible. The airline had run out of gin, so they served it with—”
“Don’t even,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with disdain.
Before I could continue, the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and the sudden shaking caused the drink cart to lurch forward, spilling a bit of coffee onto the girl’s Dior handbag. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she was frozen in disbelief.
The flight attendant, flustered, quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! I’ll get some napkins immediately—”
But the girl cut her off, standing up and waving her hand dismissively. “It’s fine,” she said, though it was clear she was anything but. She started to pat the bag gently, but the coffee stain only spread. She muttered something under her breath about how “some people just can’t do anything right.”
Meanwhile, the toddler’s crying seemed to grow louder, perhaps in protest to the stress in the air. It was as though the universe had decided to deliver a lesson, and the girl was the unwilling recipient.
As we descended toward our destination, the flight attendant came by one last time, offering another round of drinks. The girl, still sulking, sighed deeply, then stood up and asked, “Can you do me a favor? I need to get the stain out of my bag, but I don’t know where the bathroom is on this tiny plane. Could you show me?”
The flight attendant smiled. “I’m afraid the bathroom is back there, but what I can do is offer you some of the special cleaning wipes we use for delicate fabrics. They’re surprisingly good.” She handed over a small pack of wipes.
The girl took them without a word, then glanced at me, clearly seething but trying to maintain composure.
The turbulence had subsided, and we were almost there. As the captain’s voice came over the intercom to announce our arrival, I couldn’t help but grin. There was a moment of silence in the cabin, and then, from the back, the toddler suddenly stopped crying—followed by a loud, triumphant cheer. It was a perfect mix of timing and irony.
The girl stared ahead, clearly defeated, as the plane touched down, and I couldn’t help but think: maybe flying wasn’t so routine after all.