I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before, and I’ve flown quite a bit.
(Note: This is a post from my 2003 travel blog IMoL: Travels and Travails.)
I flew British Airways from Montreal to London on a Boeing 777. As luck would have it, I got stuck in a middle seat. To my left was Annoying Indian Guy with his left arm in a sling who kept demanding water from the staff every five minutes. To my right was Emotional Spanish Girl who had just spent six months in Montreal and was sad to be leaving her friends behind. Several times during the six hour flight she pulled out a photo album, touched some of the photos, cried, and then apologised to me though I never quite understood why. Sitting in the middle wasn’t too bad – I could stretch out my legs a bit – though it was warm. My plan was to eat, watch a movie, then try to sleep for a couple of hours.
Dinner came – BBQ chicken and garlic mash with a pecan butter tart for dessert – and I watched a movie called Buffalo Soldiers, which was OK to pass the time, but not spectacular. After the movie I dozed off.
When I woke up, I was feeling quite nauseated and feverish. My immediate thought was food poisoning which, of course, triggered memories of the food poisoning scene in the movie Airplane!:
Rumack: What was it we had for dinner tonight?
Elaine Dickinson: Well, we had a choice of steak or fish.
Rumack: I know. I had lasagne.
But then my vision started to go wonky. First it was just blurry, then it was like everything was over-saturated. After about a minute I realised that things weren’t getting any better, so I lept over Emotional Spanish Girl and headed to the galley at the back of the plane. After (politely!) pushing someone aside with a quick ‘Excuse me’, I talked to the first shape I determined was a steward.
‘Uh, I have a problem – I can’t see and I’m extremely nauseated.’
‘Have you been vomiting?’
‘Nope, not yet, but give me a minute.’
He took me over to one of the crew seats, left for a second, and came back with a stewardess carrying a bottle of oxygen. I put the mask on and breathed deeply, feeling better almost immediately.
‘Were you sitting in the middle seat?’ the steward asked me. I nodded. ‘And did you have wine with dinner?’ Another nod. ‘And were you tired when you got on the plane to begin with?’ Geez, was this guy going to guess my birthday is too? This happens often enough – mainly to men – that he knew it was related to low blood-sugar and altitude (Boeing 777s fly up to about 39000 ft – higher than most other airliners). ‘Most guys don’t make it to the back’, he said, ‘they pass out in the aisle.’ At least I have that thought to cling to.
He gave me some chocolate and some tea. I sat there for a while before we hit some turbulence and I had to go back to my seat. After that, I was fine.
Upon approach to Heathrow – seatbelt sign on – Annoying Indian Guy started pressing the button to get the staff’s attention. -BOING- Pause. -BOING- -BOING- Pause. -BOING- -BOING- -BOING-. The steward appeared.
‘Yes sir?’
‘Water.’
‘Pardon me sir?’
‘Water. Water!’
The steward really wanted to roll his eyes. ‘Right away sir.’