Diarrhea in a freighter?

[Sim Sweat]

Glad this thread lives on.
Two stories:

When I worked for a certain regional in the northeast, we had 1900C's in addition to the 121 fleet. One such aircraft inbound to PVD called in range and advised they would need "urgent cabin attention" upon arrival. We all watched as they taxied in and the pax deplaned. Then the crew came down the stairs and they were not pleased. Seems a certain male pax walked up to the flight deck during the trip demanding that they land ... that he was in the throes of labor. The crew politely refused, saying they were only 20 or 30 out, whereupon the distressed passenger, in front of 18 others, folded his butt into the small storage area aft of the flight deck and let fly there, just about killing all on board with the toxic stench. The crew's flight bags, hats and jackets were in there too. It was pretty easy to tell which passenger it was just by watching the glares and death rays from the others.

Another time a good friend and I took a B-100 from HVN to DCA (when you still could). We dropped our sole passenger there, and he threw us a few larger bills and suggested we grab a meal before returning. We unwisely patronized a Chinese restaurant in downtown DC, chowed, and returned to the aircraft for the return trip. About 30 minutes into the flight, we are both unable to hear over the gurgles and clenching for all we are worth ... we had no lav in this airplane. We toughed it out and landed at New Haven, and there was one big-eyed ramp guy as the airplane rolled to a hard stop, the engines were spooling down, and we were side by side in a dead run for the head in the FBO. We laughed about it later, but the fear of not knowing whether you're going to make it is intense.

All right, three:
I was once driving a PA31 to Manassas with a young new guy in the right seat and four pax, two couples. I'm about 30 minutes out and trying to convince my bladder that I am boss, when I realize I'm not gonna win this one. I'm looking around desperately when I remember there's a P-tube behind the last row. I tell a surprised co-pilot I'll be back in my best Schwartzenegger voice, and hustle aft to the aforementioned area, trying to act like I'm supposed to be doing this for the startled passengers. When I get there I find the tube is gone ... just a small stainless steel hole in the deck, no way I can use that. Now I'm really hurting, and all I can find is a dang fuel strainer! How much does this thing hold ... maybe two ounces? So yeah, two, then two more, then two more and so on. Wet carpet, passengers who know what's going on but are trying not to let on, but the relief is so great, I don't care. Smiles and nods and back up front to approach and land. Not a lot of goodbyes and small talk, but that's aviation for ya.

 

[Mr Biggelsworth]

That just made me feel a lot better about not trying to take the fat chick back to the hotel back to the room. At least a laugh can take care of a fat chick waking up next to me. Stupid beer goggles.

 

[CRJ's suck]

Lav Service

This happened in December at my previous employer. We were always getting late calls, i.e. pax boarded, jet way pulled, tug and ramp ready to push, then we'd get the dreaded can't service the lav/can't dump lav. We'll after weeks of telling them they need to do the Lav service when the plane gets there, they still haven't gotten the message.

Just get to work, and at my gate they call in mx for a lav problem. I get out there and notice the HUGE wad of paper towels stuck in the download hose. No problem, I'll just go pressurize the plane and blow the junk out right? Nope can't do it, they're boarded ready to go. Grab the lav ladies super duty gloves and mask, I always wear protection. Take the hose off and look at this wad of paper towels hanging there, then get the bright idea to hit the towels with the hose as I'm putting it back on. Let's just say I dislodged the towels fine but never did get the hose back on there.

I kinda feel sorry for the next guy though as I just took the cover and latched it while all the crap was still coming out. I did it out of frustration, but if I ever find the guy that opened that up after me (and got probably got dumped on as well,) I'm gonna buy him a beer.

Had to throw away my nice Carharrt jacket I had gotten only about a month prior, and all my clothes, red wing boots. None got on my face, but I did see some little turds in the pocket of that nice carharrt.

After this incident, they did start to service the lavs at block in. Didn't help much seeing as now they fly for SWA.

 

[ATRCAPT]

Anyone for another round of this oldie but goodie?

 

[blingair]

This has to be one of the longest threads in the anals of FI. Hazzah to Brett, eventhough he's a none member of the bag-0-shame club.

 

[torchred]

Turds Rule!

 

[Cuban B.]

ATRs and Squirts don't mix

It's a long way to the back of a 72 so hold it in. You can do it!

 

[MOCHA HAGoTDI]

I still have no idea what airport that was.
PIPE

Little Rock AFB

 

[Vsf]

When I was a traffic watch pilot in San Diego, we had a big day coming up when the owner of the company came out for a visit and to fly along with us. I spent the prior day washing and cleaning up the airplane. We checked and re-checked everything to ensure there would be no screw-ups.

I left for work early on the fateful day, or course, lest some disaster delay my commute. As I was a couple of blocks from MYF, I realized I'd be way early and had time to eat something before the flight.​

Just my luck, Rally's (a fast food joint) had a special on Sloppy Joes. I didn't order one, or two, I ordered three in some pang of gluttony.​

The weather was good, the staff shows up , and off we go, with the reporters (2) and I doing our utmost to impress the boss. I remember thinking that my belly had never, ever, felt so full, I had simply never eaten so much at one time. I congratulated myself on my genius for gorging on those cheap Sloppy Joes.​

I didn't gloat for long.​

When I was south of San Diego, just getting ready to make my northern turn, those danged Sloppy Joes exploded in my gut like an ass-grenade. My gut hurt so much I had to bend in half just to keep the cramping from killing me. The boss was asking me some kind of dumb ass question, but my ears were ringing from the severe pain, and I couldn't hear him, and a reporter started poking me with his finger when he realized I had turned southeast, away from our route, as I made a bingo for Brown Field (appropriately named for those circumstances).​

I got into the downwind, but just my luck, some moron in a Bonanza was flying a typical moron B-52 pattern, but was just enough ahead of me to keep me number two (there is a tower there). I couldn't whip around to the other side of the pattern since that was the Mexico side of the border.​

By now, my head is pumping out sweat like a squeezed sponge, and the reporters are trying to entertain the boss and distract him from the gig, and the pain was so bad I thought I was going to puke. I rolled my ass from side to side, trying to squeak out gas to relieve pressure, but the farts were wet and increasingly foul-smelling. My boxers became glued to my butt cheeks from moisture lock.​

The boss had headphones and I didn't want to declare anything alarming, but that Bonanza was gonna make me sh!t myself.​

I finally piped up to tower, "I'd like sequence in front of the Bonanza."​

Tower asked if anything was wrong. So I cryptically said "I ate at Rally's."​

That's all it took. They had the dipsh!t in the Bonanza extend, I did a short approach from mid-downwind, tower acting as ground cleared me all the way to the building where the lav is, and I scurried away to do my business, hitting the toilet before the prop stopped turning.​

The thunder, oh, the thunder, from that horrific gut-squirt was wretched and the porcelein riccochet painted everything within a one-meter blast radius with a viscous coating of diseased, black colon-slime. I needed a friggen' biohazard shower after that episode, but had to do my best, finally sacrificing my socks for the cause. Back to the aircraft I went, and we resumed the mission.​

 

[Mr Biggelsworth]

That's the best one yet!