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Diarrhea in a freighter?
- Thread starter Frank Towns
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belchfire
unpredictable member
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Why thank you!
Well, I dunno, it wasn't a freighter...hehehe...and the only thing that ever bothered me about the employee cafeteria was the lack of service and that every day was fry-day. Except spaghetti day, when the substantially overcooked noodles were saturated in industrial strength imitation butter flavored oily goo...though eating there would probably prevent fecal impaction!
In fact, depending on what was served and the fortitude of the diner's digestive tract it was a crap shoot as to if a laxitive or plugative was required!
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CopilotDoug
Captain of Industry
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Then the stories we were told in groundschool ARE true!
***Stories told by GroundSchool Instructors no-less!
lowtimedriver
Marmott Stalker
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Me too. That was hilarious.
belchfire
unpredictable member
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I can only do this because my friends at RegionsAir need a laugh since they are all sitting at home drinking beer and wondering "what next". They of all of us need a laugh!
Oh, okay...it wasn't a freighter though...and yeah though the legend may have grown over the years...I got it from the poor chap's FO when I was paired with him a month or two later.
I belive it was in N921AE Operated by Regions Air (then Corporate Airlines) as American Connection Flight 5923 on a lovely fall afternoon in the midwest, a passenger flight enroute to MWA from STL-about 45 minutes of block time...there is no lav in the jball and dang little room to do anything like hold up a plastic bag. My understanding is that there was so little warning of the impending disaster that any attempts that could have been made would have been wasted.
I don't know if it was the Shrimp Creole from the employee cafeteria or not, as we crapexers had oh so many unsavory dining experiences to choose from but somewhere about ten minutes out of Marion, IL...
The Captain, in what must have been the most excrutiatingly embarrasing moment of his life lost the race with the brown liquid luge team and they escaped in a frenzy of gurgling, frothy, stinking filth which stained-nay I am told not only stained but saturating his shorts, uniform slacks and those wonderful, fuzzy sheepskin covered Jetstream seat cushons to such an extent that he was sitting in a veritable fecal jaccuzi!
Complete and total explosive failure of the air-******************** seperator!
I don't know if the O2 masks and smoke goggles were used but they were able to grease the airplane onto the runway and squirt right over to the ramp. After the mortified, gagging passengers (another luxury the jball lacks is a cockpit door) were deplaned said Captain asked the FO to bring his suitcase in and then in probably one of the most brave actions one so humbled could make squished across the ramp and through the terminal in broad daylight to the loo...which I am given to understand he proceeded to destroy.
After the fits of intestinal distress had subsided he made the best of a valiant effort to clean himself and put on a fresh uniform. He intended to make the return to STL you see.
I think the reeking, wet, spongy seat cushon was placed in a green garbage bag and put back in the left seat but I am not sure...
What I do know is that freshly attired the Captain had the aircraft boarded with the STL bound people, the door was closed, the checklist run, the right prop was cleared and our hero reached for the "select" button when he was assaulted anew.
There was no doubt in his mind this time! He had lost once today! In a flash he was loosed from his harness and in a streak of "sharkskin blue" TWA style slacks was halfway to the terminal before the airstair had locked down!
He made it! (Though I was never sure that the restroom was ever quite the same in the terminal in MWA - it had a funky air about it!)
Then he wisely called in sick...
But the story ends not here.
You see, it was nearly Halloween and one of the MX chaps had a small child and a sense of humor that we must pay homage to...
He liberated a disposable diaper, softened a mini snickers bar in the microwave and smeared it on the receiving side of the diaper, fashoned a sign that read "Found in 921, will the owner please remove" and placed it on the corkboard in the crewroom!
Our hero was not amused...
We all about shat ourselves over that!
So there is the story of Captain Poopy Pants...and a legend that will outlive many of our airlines!
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pgcfii2002
"Uh....oh yeah...&quo
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JohnnyP
Well-known member
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.......
Out flying with another pilot, in the middle east, or the heart of asia, whatever you want to call it.
Its middle of January, temps are way into the negatives. We land at some out of the way, god forsaken airport. The lav has been removed from our plane, and the guy is trembling. The "street meat" we had for lunch isnt agreeing. He forgot the golden rule out here of bringing your own toilet paper.
In the non-heated terminal bathroom, the toilets are, well, just holes into a pit with foot pads next to them, no dividers, no nothing. The smell is undescribable, it takes your breath away. So poor guy has to "go local" and assume the position on a foot pad hole. No toilet paper in sight, no, these people use hoses and spray them selves with freezing cold water. Well, when in rome, so time to hose down. Nothing like taking a dump into a pit while squatting, then hosing your a** off with ice cold water when its -23C outside, all while the passengers are watching one of their pilots do this.
I think I would have s*** in my pants, or under the wing, but thats just me.
Out flying with another pilot, in the middle east, or the heart of asia, whatever you want to call it.
Its middle of January, temps are way into the negatives. We land at some out of the way, god forsaken airport. The lav has been removed from our plane, and the guy is trembling. The "street meat" we had for lunch isnt agreeing. He forgot the golden rule out here of bringing your own toilet paper.
In the non-heated terminal bathroom, the toilets are, well, just holes into a pit with foot pads next to them, no dividers, no nothing. The smell is undescribable, it takes your breath away. So poor guy has to "go local" and assume the position on a foot pad hole. No toilet paper in sight, no, these people use hoses and spray them selves with freezing cold water. Well, when in rome, so time to hose down. Nothing like taking a dump into a pit while squatting, then hosing your a** off with ice cold water when its -23C outside, all while the passengers are watching one of their pilots do this.
I think I would have s*** in my pants, or under the wing, but thats just me.
pgcfii2002
"Uh....oh yeah...&quo
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GOOD ONE!!!!!!!!!
belchfire
unpredictable member
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Sounds like Kwinihawk, AK...you know it's cold when you take the toilet seat inside so it won't freeze to your arse when you need it!
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pgcfii2002
"Uh....oh yeah...&quo
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Birddog
On a mission...
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2001
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- 259
Food poisoning
So there we were in the Shed at 14,000 or so, happily puffing away on the O2, when I feel a sesmic shift somewhere in my gut. Not painful, but the type of feeling that tells you that the 30 or so feet of neatly coiled intestine is reconfiguring itself into one straight pipe. At first I though, "Only an hour and a half to go, I can make it." About 5 minutes later, more gurgling and shifting shattered that illusion. I handed off the plane to my somewhat bewildered FO and headed for the back. On the way back I grabbed the only recepticles I could find, two plastic bags which contained the deli food responsible for the current problem. By the time I got to the back of the plane, I was not only squeezing my cheeks together as tight as I could manage, I was also starting to have the heaves. With one arm looped through the rear net, I somehow managed to simultainiously vent from both ends into two seperate bags. While most of it was deposited into the bags, a substainial portion landed on the deck. This being the dead of winter, it froze instantly. I used the few kleenex and the weather from our flight plan to clean up and headed back towards the front. I nearly make it to the cockpit with another round of gurglings sent me staggering, now lightheaded and fairly hypoxic, towards the back of the plane for another round. I barely managed to untie the bags in time. It was around this time that I learned that bare flesh will stick to a cold soaked, diamond tread deck. To make this a perfect evening, I was out of paper of any sort. Looking around, I found a few rags in the corner and used those. Yet another mistake. Apparently they had been previously used to wipe up jet fuel or some other fluid that would be irritating to sensitive skin. It was a unique sensation I hope never to repeat. At this point I sacrificed my undershirt, and headed back to the front as quickly as I can, because I realized we had been descending for quite some time. I manage to arrive in time to find us 10 miles from the airport, set up for the approach. I managed to make it through the landing, and then proceeded to destroy the bathroom at the FBO while my FO loaded the freight. To his eternal credit, he did think to get some hot water and a mop to remove the offending leftovers from the plane. After all this, we still managed to get the freight in roughly on time.
The moral of the story is; beware of the deli at the Belleville Meijer. Pain and humiliation have thier origins there.
So there we were in the Shed at 14,000 or so, happily puffing away on the O2, when I feel a sesmic shift somewhere in my gut. Not painful, but the type of feeling that tells you that the 30 or so feet of neatly coiled intestine is reconfiguring itself into one straight pipe. At first I though, "Only an hour and a half to go, I can make it." About 5 minutes later, more gurgling and shifting shattered that illusion. I handed off the plane to my somewhat bewildered FO and headed for the back. On the way back I grabbed the only recepticles I could find, two plastic bags which contained the deli food responsible for the current problem. By the time I got to the back of the plane, I was not only squeezing my cheeks together as tight as I could manage, I was also starting to have the heaves. With one arm looped through the rear net, I somehow managed to simultainiously vent from both ends into two seperate bags. While most of it was deposited into the bags, a substainial portion landed on the deck. This being the dead of winter, it froze instantly. I used the few kleenex and the weather from our flight plan to clean up and headed back towards the front. I nearly make it to the cockpit with another round of gurglings sent me staggering, now lightheaded and fairly hypoxic, towards the back of the plane for another round. I barely managed to untie the bags in time. It was around this time that I learned that bare flesh will stick to a cold soaked, diamond tread deck. To make this a perfect evening, I was out of paper of any sort. Looking around, I found a few rags in the corner and used those. Yet another mistake. Apparently they had been previously used to wipe up jet fuel or some other fluid that would be irritating to sensitive skin. It was a unique sensation I hope never to repeat. At this point I sacrificed my undershirt, and headed back to the front as quickly as I can, because I realized we had been descending for quite some time. I manage to arrive in time to find us 10 miles from the airport, set up for the approach. I managed to make it through the landing, and then proceeded to destroy the bathroom at the FBO while my FO loaded the freight. To his eternal credit, he did think to get some hot water and a mop to remove the offending leftovers from the plane. After all this, we still managed to get the freight in roughly on time.
The moral of the story is; beware of the deli at the Belleville Meijer. Pain and humiliation have thier origins there.
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belchfire
unpredictable member
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"To his eternal credit, he did think to get some hot water and a mop to remove the offending leftovers from the plane. After all this, we still managed to get the freight in roughly on time."
I would hope that unless he was suited only for a career as janitor you recommended him for upgrade!
I would hope that unless he was suited only for a career as janitor you recommended him for upgrade!
belchfire
unpredictable member
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I know-I was exagerating a bit. I do think that he has gone a long way to proving that he works well in the crew environment though!
He also proved that he is willing to do what is required to move the metal. Highly important in the 135/121.5 freight world...
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Birddog
On a mission...
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2001
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- 259
I know-I was exagerating a bit. I do think that he has gone a long way to proving that he works well in the crew environment though!
Very true, but I don't want to set a precedent of having to test all FOs that way before upgrade.
belchfire
unpredictable member
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hehehehe...well, yeah, but after a while I bet you would carry a stolen hotel tissue roll with you!
Besides, the washout, er, wipeout rate would go through the roof!
Birddog
On a mission...
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2001
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- 259
Way ahead of you there. Recently I have found the tissue packs from MREs a lot more compact. Also, the chewable Pepto tablets have become required equipment.
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