Murphy’s law

Our stopover in Mexico City had been excellent.

The less excellent part of it started in the crew-bus from the hotel to the airport. We wondered where (and whether!) the driver had ever got his licence. I’ve never experienced such bad driving in my life. For the entire trip he would pull up, slow down and then accelerate again without any clear reason. What’s more, he tried to avoid traffic jams by squeezing his vehicle through a district full of narrow, bumpy streets. Having finally left that area, we ended up in a traffic jam on the highway to the airport anyway. It became more and more silent in our bus. Even though I never get car-sick, I was beginning to feel distinctly queasy towards the end of the journey too.

I was beginning to feel distinctly queasy towards the end of the journey

Shortly after take-off, one of my colleagues turned out to be suffering from food-poisoning. To make matters worse, a group of passengers who were in a party mood – drinking a lot and bothering fellow passengers – required quite a lot of attention, so we needed all the hands we had. Our very pale colleague bravely ran between trolley and toilet and back again, trying to keep a smile on her face in the meantime.

My own light nausea had never entirely vanished and now I slowly started to feel generally ill. By the time we were due to serve breakfast, I was spent. The senior purser took over my work immediately, although at this stage of the flight he had a lot of other work to do. Not long after this, an interphone-call came from another galley. One of our colleagues over there was suffering from a spectacular nose-bleed. Could anyone please come over and help out?

This is what I call Murphy’s law. But there’s nothing one can do and work has to carry on regardless.

I’ve heard this kind of story from many colleagues. Afterwards they can be rather hilarious. And in the end we always seem to manage, like we did on our flight from Mexico. I’m convinced that none of the passengers ever noticed what was going on.

I was thankful to finally get home. I still felt ill, but I knew no one would expect anything from me for the next few hours. At last I was able to relax and laughingly told my boyfriend about the flight.

And as my head touched my pillow, I wondered what the next flight would be like.