Around the World in a Bad Mood! by Rene Foss Page A

desperate and out of all possible options and I will call to mind this day and my new best friend, Charlie. Charlie this, Charlie that, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. . . . How will I ever live through it?
    Oh, get you another gin and tonic? I’ll be happy to, Charlie. I’ll be right back!

Germ War Fare
    E VERYBODY HAS A PHOBIA. I know a flight attendant who is scared to death of flying. It’s true! She takes a Dramamine before every flight, wears a St. Christopher medal, and avidly watches the Weather Channel. When it gets really turbulent she goes to the cockpit full of questions, and she bids to work near the forward part of the cabin, where the ride is generally more placid. She has been flying for more than twenty years. One of the phobias both Bitsy and I developed was (and continues to be) “germs.” When a passenger tries to put a used Kleenex or a dirty diaper in my bare hands I go crazy! First of all, I won’t even take it. I simply smile and say, “I’ll be right back,” then walk away, and if I’m not too pissed off I’ll get a garbage bag. I’ve been like this to some extent my whole life, but when I started flying it got worse. To this day my hands are like sandpaper from washing them so often with that awful airplane soap. For a time I didn’t think that soap killed germs, so I got in the habit of taking a little vodka and pouring it on my hands after the meal service. I figure the alcohol is more effective than the soap and it certainly smells better. Besides, the bathroom lines are so long that it can be three hours before you can actually get in there to wash. In the meantime you have to keep reminding yourself, “Don’t touch your face, don’t rub your eye, don’t scratch your nose,” and of course that makes your nose start itching like crazy. You can’t imagine how thrilled I was when they invented Purell. It has changed my life.
    And if you think the food is bad when you’re eating it while crammed into your seat next to a big fat guy, try eating it while sitting in the jumpseat right next to the bathroom. There is often a line of people staring at you (yes, ladies and gentlemen, flight attendants do eat) while, with your meal tray balanced on your knees, you try to shovel some slop down your gullet. That is when people usually want to ask you a question: “So is this your regular route?” Or else they want to ask you for a drink: “Can I have another beer?” (He has had only five and needs another one right now, never mind that you haven’t had a morsel to eat in the last ten hours.) Meanwhile, the rest of the line is moving in and out of the lavatory. Many a lousy meal has been ruined for me in this fashion. The only thing that can be said for eating your breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner near a lavatory is that it’s probably a great way to lose weight.
    One time I was strapped into the jumpseat that faces the passengers and the kid in the passenger seat directly across from me threw up right as the plane was landing. He didn’t get to the barf bag in time. It was all over the floor in front of me and on my shoes and nylons. I jumped up and screamed (really professional), and I can still remember every gory detail. That was about ten years ago. Lucky for me I had another pair of nylons and another pair of shoes. It’s not only the snot and barf that perpetuates my phobia—it’s also the air. It might just be my imagination, but it seems as though a lot more people are coughing and sneezing on me these days. Maybe you’ve heard about this on the news, but the recirculated air is really bad. As I understand it, a certain percentage of fresh air comes into the cabin, but a larger percentage is just stale air that keeps circulating throughout the cabin during the entire flight. I’ve been told that the cockpit can control the amount of fresh air that’s mixed in with the