Pilots are just glorified truck drivers
Captain O
The flight to Nairobi should have been uneventful. Or so I thought. I mean, it’s only a forty-five minute commute between Entebbe and Jomo Kenyatta.
But fate would have it that I happened to be seated next to an emergency exit. Standard protocol dictates that if you find yourself seated by an emergency exit, you are expected to be familiar with emergency evacuation procedures. Actually, you are supposed to be the person that ensures safe passage out of the aircraft in the (unlikely) event of a crash. Gulp. That’s a lot of responsibility to bear.
“When the plane crashes in water, do you see that handle over there? ” said Daira as she pointed at the emergency door handle.
“Good. Turn and pull it, then throw the door out. Now do you see that line there? After you open the door, walk on the wing and hook it to that hole over there,” She continued. This was starting to sound scary but there was something soothing about her soft voice.
Alight first things first, Daira was the pretty air hostess walking us through the emergency procedures. Also, Daira isn’t her real name, I just made that up, in case someone tries to put two and two together.
When the plane crashes in the water? Does she know something that we don’t? My mind was racing all over the place.
I have sat at an emergency exit before. A couple of times actually. The air host(ess) will normally say “In the unlikely event of an emergency…” as if to to give you the reassurance that nothing was going to happen. Daira here on the other hand, well let’s just say she really spooked me. I was curious; what did she know?
Why was I freaking out? I am never freaked out by flying. Besides, I know for sure that I am more likely to run for office and become the President of Uganda than for the plane to crash. That’s not a hyperbole by the way. It’s a real fact with hard data to back it up.
But then I looked at the emergency door and it had a band aid, a literal band aid, I kid you not!
What does Daira know that I don’t? I couldn’t stop thinking about what she just said. What was that band aid doing there?
My wildly unlikely thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the warning chime for all passengers to fasten their seat belts. The plane was beginning to taxi from the apron.
“Excuse me Miss, my seat belt doesn’t fit. Do you think I could get an extra belt?” The lady seating on the window seat right in front of me hollered at Daira. She was also seated next to an emergency exit.
“Oh, sorry ma’am your not an ABP. Do you mind if you switched seats?” There was a certain sweetness and innocence about Daira when she spoke.
“Excuse me. What does ABP mean?” interjected the lady.
“Oh! It means you are not an Able-Bodied Person. Could you please come with me?” At this point I wasn’t sure if Daira just had a sense of dark humor. Able-Bodied what?
This flight was supposed to be a mundane, text book commute. Things were starting to escalate. I didn’t see this coming.
Leon Festinger, an American psychologist coined the term cognitive dissonance in 1957. Now, I know what you are thinking, “What has Leon Festinger got to do with madam non-ABP?” Stay with me, will you?
Cognitive dissonance occurs when someone holds two psychologically inconsistent beliefs (or attitudes or opinions) that create an unpleasant mental tension.
To use language that Able-Bodied People can understand, it simply means, people hate to hear the truth, especially if it involves hearing something they need to improve.
Madam non-ABP right in front of me was generously “gifted by nature” and so it appeared that she was having trouble getting the belt to secure her frame.
“Did you call me disabled? Do I look disabled to you?” suddenly the cabin was unusually hot-ish. I turned on the air conditioner above me.
“Those are the SOPs ma’am. Do you mind following me?” Daira had a disguised smirk under her smile. She was unfazed.
“No, no, no, no! You need to apologize for calling me disabled. I am not going anywhere!” I don’t know why, but this wasn’t supposed to be hilarious, yet here we were. We were supposed to be the guardians of the galaxy (excuse me, emergency exit) but anytime now it looked like were about to have a real emergency.
I double-checked my seat belt to make sure it was fastened. Now, only if I could find popcorn – or better still, nsenene.
“My apologies ma’am. I am so sorry. Please come with me.” Daira used her charm to diffuse the tension. Madam non-ABP calmed down and followed Daira to the back of the air plane.
I forgot how freaked out I was. I looked at Kaby who was seated next to me and I could see she was fighting a losing battle to contain her laughter. She wasn’t supposed to be attempting to laugh. This wasn’t funny and yet we couldn’t suppress the laughter anymore. Thankfully, our giggles were drowned out by the Captain’s announcement over the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” That voice sounded familiar. It turned out both the Captain and First Officer were friends of mine.
Suddenly I wasn’t freaking out anymore. I could tell you escapades about the Captain and myself. Maybe one day.
I found myself laughing out loud. Captain O liked to make fun of pilots. I remembered a conversation we had a couple of years ago. “I really don’t understand why people fuss about pilots. We are just glorified truck drivers,” he said.
Soon, we were off the ground and smoothly cruising at 34,000 feet above sea level.
* * *
To be continued…
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