Mephistopheles Airlines

As mentioned in a previous post, we gathered on Day 2, after saying "good-bye" to loved ones for the second time in as many days, at 0300. This gave us just enough time to pretend to get 5 hours of sleep before gaining accountability, boarding busses, and heading for the plane once again. It is worth noting here that we have been a nation at war for over 15 years. One would think that would be ample time to develop the deploying process into something of a science. One would be incorrect. Enter Atlas Airlines. They are to travel what sociology is to science. The people of Atlas Airlines (pilots, flight attendants, water dudes) seemed nice enough. However, I think it would be safe to say that the motto of Atlas Airlines should be, "Sit vis nobiscum" which is Latin for "You only had one job". After the debacle the previous night, the universe was desirous of making it up to us, and as luck would have it, the morning went relatively quickly. Here, "relatively" is meant to elicit a comparison to something that stands in direct contrast to the thing being compared. In this case that would be "relative" to every other second since the dawn of man. And so, after a reasonable wait (again as compared to the whole of human history) we were on our plane and airborne. Fortuitously, I was able to procure a seat in the bulkhead with no seat mate to hinder my ability catch up on some much needed rest, which I assumed would be relatively simple (there's that word again). As it turned out, I did indeed have a seat mate. His name was Mephistopheles, and unlike every other row in the plane, the bulkhead seats have much more leg room...and arm rests that are locked in place by the prince of darkness himself. So, for the duration of the first leg of our "trip" I attempted to sit/sleep/fit in a seat I like to call, "The Iron Maiden". The 2 hour flight to Kentucky to pick up some more friends lasted a relatively short 37 hours (see what I did there?). Once on the ground we were informed by the fine people of Sociology Airlines, "We'll be on the ground for 2-3 hours while we refuel and restock the plane, and then we'll be back on our way." As I freed myself from the torturous confines of "The Maiden", my tailbone began what would turn out the biggest fight of my life. More on that later!

Limping into the terminal I looked forward to the day I could begin to look forward to the day I would retrace my steps home. The 2-3 hour wait quickly became 5-6 hours and the natives were growing restless. After much inquiring we were told by the fine people One Job Airlines that we could not depart because...wait for it...the tank for flushing the toilets was not full enough for a trans-Atlantic flight. So as we sat watching it rain water everywhere, we couldn't help but note the irony in the dry interior of said plane's septic system. But not to worry. After much consideration, thought, and counsel, the good people at Dry Flush Airlines decided to purchase several cases of bottled water and put them in the lavatories as something of a manual flush system. Brilliant. It was at this point that they began to discuss the vagaries of "Crew Rest" and the impact of two hundred angry and tired travelers. And so, we finally headed back to the plane, double in number, hungry and tired, pretending we didn't need to use the latrine. The coming 8 hour flight would cure us of that. As for me...I gingerly remounted my dear friend "The Iron Maiden" and waited for the spine searing pain that was most definitely in my future.

Once airborne for approximately 1 hour the crew began serving "dinner", which consisted of 3 ounces of fruit cocktail in "juice", the choice of a soggy baloney or soggy ham sandwich, and what I believe was meant to be a random condiment. So it was that after dinner I settled in for what would prove to be a relatively short nap a war raged between Mephistopheles, The Iron Maiden, and my tailbone.