Flight 1 of 4: Thursday, December 19th Visakhapatnam to Bangalore
We left for the airport straight from the plant and I can't pretend that I was horribly sad to leave. Sure, there were things I would miss, largely the weather and food, but I had been working really hard and mostly felt burnt out and eager for my familiar routine that enabled me to deal with my typical amount of life stressors; without which burn-out comes on at an accelerated rate. So, with fond remembrances of the people I had met and places I had experienced, I sat waiting for the first of four flights and what would ultimately be the beginning of a 39 hour journey home.
Flight 2 of 4: Friday, December 20th Bangalore to Frankfurt
Though we arrived in Bangalore around 8:45pm on Thursday, our flight to Frankfurt was not going to leave until 3:40am, Friday, so we got some food then alternated sleep and walking around to kill time. Now, bare with me because things are about to get very personal, all for the sake of addressing a question that I've habitually pondered throughout my life: Why is the concept of shitting oneself so infinitely hilarious, even in the face of experiencing one of the most embarrassing scenarios a Human can endure?
I briefly mentioned in one of my previous posts that despite the exotic and extremely spicy cuisine my stomach remained a steel tank, retaining it's predisposition to clinical constipation. During my Indian tenure there were occasional noises and pains, but nothing to cause any alarm; mostly I just felt weak, nauseous or sated if my tummy was off, but I never felt like I'd have diarrhea. I had been very careful not to eat uncooked food or drink the water while there however, which is the typical culprit for such issues. Well, at the airport I had a sandwich with uncooked lettuce and onion on it and also drank a cucumber lemon iced tea drink (delicious!) likely made from native water, and I distinctly remembered thinking.....'hmm, maybe this will help relieve my constipation.' I would live to regret those words when my stomach began feeling queasy just as the flight began to board.
I sat down and waited through the normal boarding hullabaloo and safety videos; I was miraculously left alone in a row of three seats so I was relieved at not having to disturb others if my stomach did decide to act up, and excited at the prospect of lying down to sleep. Things seemed to have settled down until we taxied to the runway. It hits like a ton of bricks; don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, the cold sweat the breaks on the brow when you realize there is a unmistakable possibility that you're going to shit your pants. Immediately the thoughts began to stream by: We're taxiing so there's no way to get up, if I did they'd have to stop the plane and we'd lose our position in line for take-off. And, worse yet, I was wearing the only pants I'd have access to for the next 2 days since I had to check my bag due to the extra weight all the brass deities I'd bought added to my luggage. Oh sacred Ganesh, please help me now! Perhaps if I did shit my pants, the stewardess could supply me with new pants? Where the pants would materialize from I had no clue, nor did I care, I was just hoping they kept some around for such occurrences. Maybe I could fashion a pair out of Lufthansa blankets, or borrow something from another passenger?
As the cramps peaked so did my anxiety, my breaths coming in controlled and focused lamaze class-like huffs. I didn't know whether I had 5 minutes or 5 seconds until the inevitable event, but I had to admit to myself in that moment that I would very likely shit myself somewhere between 0 and 10,000 feet; I paused and began to laugh, which didn't help the situation, but I couldn't help myself; this was f*$^ing hilarious! I made it by the way, my prayers to Ganesh answered.
After that the flight was incredibly uneventful until I awoke from my slumber and decided to have a look out of the window. I was confronted with a sight I was not expecting, glorious snow capped peaks, the likes of which I hadn't seen since peering out over the continental divide in Colorado. Breathtaking and tear-provoking. I hit the flight status button on the TV so that I could see where we were; I didn't recognize any of the city's names so I wrote one down and later discovered that we were near Sukhumi, Georgia and were flying across the Black Sea. I was astounded by the beauty and made a mental note to come back for a better look if I ever had the opportunity.
Flight 3 of 4: Friday, December 20th Frankfurt to Chicago
We were late coming into Frankfurt and I already had a tight connection. I made it to security as my next flight was supposed to start boarding so I asked the attendant how far Gate Z69 was, to which she replied 'very far;' awesome, I proceeded to haul ass to the terminal proclaiming many 'excuse mes!' and 'coming throughs!' along the way. When I reached the gate I saw that the inbound flight hadn't yet arrived and we were also still waiting for the crew to report for duty, so our departure would be delayed. I sat back and felt very thankful for the opportunity to get some exercise. I also took the a few moments to capture the massiveness of the bi-level 747.
Once we finally took off, after a two-hour delay, I stayed awake long enough to eat lunch and chat up my neighbors. Then I took two Xanax, and aspirin, donned my earplugs and eye mask and covered myself up with two blankets. I woke up 9 hours later just in time for our snack, hahaha; truly the ideal flight!
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| First ride on a double-decker 747, the best part of which is that you hardly ever feel turbulence! |
Flight 4 of 4: Friday, December 20th Chicago to Wichita
After clearing customs I headed to the my final flight of the trip, feeling extremely relieved yet exhausted. Nothing, and I mean nothing in the entire world, could have prepared me for what happened next. Now, I kindly ask you to stay with me because unless you're a fellow Hospirian you cannot fully appreciate the significance of this event. Also bear in mind that I had then been traveling for 36 straight hours, for work, and had not performed any of my usual personal hygiene rituals one would perform within that length of time; I'd also narrowly escaped having to fashion an airline blanket as a skirt, going commando no less.
As you may or may not know Hospira's corporate headquarters is located in Lake Forest, Illinois, north of Chicago, which is why when I saw who I thought I saw, I was not wholly surprised, because who I thought I saw was none other than Mike F&$@ing Ball, the CEO OF HOSPIRA!!! Seeing Bradd Pitt could not have provoked the adrenaline rush I was then experiencing. My immediate reaction was 'we're totally talking to him!' Are you kidding me?! I was, in that moment, a testament to the international presence and prominence of the company I believe in and work for, since I happened to be traveling from one Hospira site to another each half a world away from each other yet affirming the same fundamental mission: "Advancing Wellness through the right people and the right products." I reasoned that the worse I looked the more dedicated I was to the company; my ripe scent that of the Hospirian spirit! I won't give all of the details, but I will say this: Mike Ball is an incredibly affable and endearing man who contains no shred of the inflated egoism that has been displayed by many a pharmaceutcial CEO. Fate put me in that O'hare terminal that day; I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for the opportunity to become steadfast in my admiration for our corporations leadership.
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