© 2011 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. This is a face to fight a hundred battles for.

11/365 – Auxiliary Power Outage

AUXILIARY POWER OUTAGE

Duhhhhh, flying planes are neat . . . ~slobber~

Duhhhhh, flying planes are neat . . . ~slobber~

What an amazing trip.  And, to boot, what an amazing exit.  Leaving The Palace was tough but the staff all rallied as we checked out.  We got pictures of the grounds and the various members of the staff who made us so comfortable.

Felipe and I agreed - after being such great guests, it was tike to topple The Place as no one would ever compare.

The wait in the Puerto Plata Airport (POP for short.) was filled with souvinere shopping, duty free and lots of final Presidente drinks.  The flight was smooth.  Customs a snap.  Morte drinking in the Miami airport as we wait for our final flight to Chicago.  Weeeee.  We’re in the plane.  I’m sitting next to a super fat black man but he’s happy so I’m happy.  The plane is pulling out onto the tarmac.  We’re going home – fszzzzt.

Oh, that's right. We need darkness to fly. It's the fuel that flies planes. Right?

Power to the whole plane went out.  The plane is literally free rolling back from the gate.  15 seconds later, it powers back on.  The captain gets on the horn and says, “Sorry about that folks.  We lost the auxiliary power there.  Just need to fix it and we’ll be ready for flight.   It’s not a big deal.  It’s not something we NORMALLY use in flight.”  The key word is “normally.”  What the fuck!  Normally.

Our Captain.

Well, now the whole plane is in somewhat a silent panic.  And the panic doesn’t necessarily get better because the Captain and the flight attendants are doing NOTHING to ease the passengers fears. NOTHING.  So, what happens.  Natrurally a couoke want off the plane to which the captain must  comply.  So we have to taxi back to a gate and let them off where police will meet them.  As well, their luggage must be taken out of the baggage hold.

The  the dumb ass captain explains this but in a way that is so utterly condescending.  “Ladies and gentlemen, a couple FOR SOME REASON, wants to get off the flight so we have to comply.  Whatever their problem is, we’re going to have to get back to a gate.  Sorry for the inconvenience.”  Its as off he want us to blame everything that has gone wrong pin this poor couple.  And what the hell does he mean by “whatever their problem is”?  You mean the outage of the auxiliary power system that you don’t NORMALLY use in flight – could that be the problem as opposed to them being needy selfish passengers?  Jesus!  And to make it worse, the captain makes two more of these announcements that are degrading to the couple.  As well, the flight attendants are still doing nothing to calm an increasingly frightened plane.  In fact, the head flight attendant is such a condescending, emotionless pig, that it just seems like the whole crew is blaming the incident on the passengers.

For myself, I’m a little unnerved, but I’m being logical.  If this were a life threatening situation, we would never take off.  So everything must be okay.  I am teetering between contempt and compassion for the couple because while I logically know everything is fine, I also know that this couple is operating from an emotional place.  Which is understandable.  How do I know.  Because I now have a wife sitting next to me who isn’t a big fan of flying and is having a panic attack.  Poor Megan is asking if we too should get off the flight as well.  I’m thinking, “If Megan’s thinking this, there’s at least a dozen others who are too.  WHY ISN’T THE FLIGHT CREW EASING TENSIONS?”

The head flight attendant.

I so badly want to ring the call button and tell the smug male flight attendant to put his compassion into high gear and make the passengers understand that everything is okay.  I so badly want to write a letter to American Airlines telling them what moronic fools their staff is.  I so badly want to punch the fat black man next to me for taking a 3rd of my seat in what will be a long, arduous journey.  A to top if off, the alcohol is wearing off and I’m feeling hungover.

Yeah, this won't do. We're gonna need a few more.

It’s time like these that I realize I almost exclusively fly Southwest for a reason.  Had this shit happened on their flight, those amateur comedians they call flight attendants would have had everyone feeling like the auxiliary power outage was jut the lights going dim for their stand up routine.  I just want to complain to someone!

Either pour some alcohol down this gullet or let me tell you off. Either way I'm getting my way.

But I don’t.  I make Megan look me in the eye and stay with me as we take off an hour later.  I hold her hand throughout the flight and remember, this is about her now, not some unqualified flight assistant and his annoyance at not getting to the casinos earlier than he wanted so he can pay for his kiddie porn collection.  This is about choosing your battles and the battle I have is to make Megan feel calm, comfortable and safe.  And when we land safely in Chicago, it’s to continue to do that whenever the “Auxiliary Power” goes out – till the day I die.

This is a face to fight a hundred battles for.

 

Oh, and I get the last word . . .

Last Word.

 

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