I wish I was sleeping, or working, or doing something productive, but that’s impossible with the rough knocking of the window against my head in this nonstop turbulence. Since we took off, it has gotten really bad in its relentlessness, and it hasn’t let up now an hour or so into this flight.
Meanwhile, something smells funny in here as well. It always smells funny in economy… I can’t quite put my nose on what the smell is but at least I don’t want to. I bury my nose into my scratchy airline pillow and wish I brought perfume or some other such pleasantries to sniff.
The flight attendant quickly making her way down the aisle mutters that this is “really bad” turbulence to one of the other passengers.
So, I’m distracting myself by writing this on my phone, as it nearly flings from my hand.
I hate turbulence. I know it can’t hurt me, but I don’t like the feeling of being out of control, especially above an open ocean. I think I’m too exhausted at the moment for my pulse to be racing as it typically does while being batted around viciously at 34,000 feet.
The Bloody Mary I had for breakfast helped the first hour or so of this but its numbing effects are long gone at this point, and the shakiness is getting worse. It doesn’t help that the speaker to make announcements goes in and out whenever they try to share information about when they can start service and bring me brain-numbing beer. I wish they would give us some information about how long this will last… I’m starting to think it might go on for the rest of the flight. Another 8 and a half hours.
7:48 hours to SFO and the turbulence is somehow getting worse. I may write a novel here to survive it.
I wonder how many people desperately have to pee right now on this plane. A few so desperate have taken their chances. Three hours into this, even though we are being flung violently in every which direction, the few who have decided peeing is more important than not bashing their heads into the top of the cabin have inspired a bit of a bathroom revolution. Viva la pee-sistance.
I’m glad I drank a Bloody Mary and three cups of tea before getting on the flight. However, I’m also regretting it for obvious reasons. As soon as that seatbelt sign comes off there will be a mile long line for the bathroom. This is not an ideal situation.
The flight attendant, finally serving beverages, didn’t even ask me if I wanted a drink. I guess she also thinks it’s a liability to let me have any water at this point. She may be right.
We are now off the southwest coast of Iceland and it’s getting bumpy again. So I guess I’m glad I didn’t get up. I feel like everyone drinking liquids right now is challenging the gods, or at least the tenacity of their bladder control.
Hmm.
I want to go to Iceland. Perhaps now would be a good time. I hear Reykjavik has lovely lagoons. And toilets. At this point, either would do.
And, relief. Though a two ding while in the restroom made me weary of my decision. Did you know the captain communicates with the flight attendants via the ding system? Loud. Soft. One ding. Two dings. DING DINGS.
I haven’t learned the code, though. I’m avoiding it as I’d prefer not to know when the captain dings something like “warning, iceburg straight ahead”—or whatever would be its 35,000 feet equivalent–giant ice cloud, straight ahead?
I have a phone app that reads the current turbulence levels and g force while in all these bumps. It’s helpful to watch it to get a sense of how bad things really are. Not so bad. They just feel bad. I need an app like this for life’s turbulence as well. I seem to overreact to every single bump.
life with interest 