I'll preface this with the fact that I don't fly often. Road trips are more my style and my last flight confirms this for me.
So, I didn't actually book this flight. My sister-in-law was in charge of that. She was fully aware of my triskaidekaphobia beforehand but chose row 13 anyways. Upon looking at my boarding pass, I knew it was going to be a doozy of a flight.
It was a fairly small plane. I sat in the middle seat because it was easier for her to get out in the aisle seat with a baby. Our window seat neighbor arrived and squeezed in past us. I'm just saying, waiting until the last minute to put your compression socks on, in the middle of a hot a$$ crowded plane is not the best idea. But, I politely scooted over as much as I could so she could have plenty of room.
About halfway up to altitude, I smelled a familiar smell so what's the first thing an ostomates does? I did a quick over-the-shirt bag check to make sure all was intact. No problems with my bag so I attributed the smell to my baby nephew.
About five minutes later, I smelled it again. Wasn't the baby this time because my SIL checked his diaper. I ignored it and waited for my free pretzels.
I bet you can't guess what happens next. Well, maybe you can. The smell came back. Then, I noticed my window-seat-compression-sock-wearing neighbor start to flip through a magazine rather quickly. She found a perfume sample page and quickly tore it out. It was Polo by Ralph Lauren. She started waving it, trying to be inconspicuous, but nevertheless, ended up wafting a potent stream of god awful floral scent my way.
So, here I am, squished in a tiny seat, basking in the smell of farts mixed with Polo. And mind you, this kept happening every 5 or so minutes. I swear, I thought the oxygen masks were going to drop down any second. I was definitely lacking air.
Because things normally don't go my way, of course, the window-seat-compression-sock-wearing neighbor of mine pulls out a Big Mac. Like, really? You have the nervous flight farts and you're gonna top it off with a Big Mac? Sh!t fire.
I told my SIL that I HAD to go to the bathroom. I'm normally not a claustrophobic person but the farts were starting to close in on me. Just my luck, the stewardesses were delivering drinks at that time so I couldn't get to my designated toilet. Whatever. At this point, I just have to get away from the smell so I high-tailed it to first class. I didn't actually have to go but I needed an escape. It's bad when you go to an airplane potty to escape the smell next to you. Just suck on that for a second.
Anyways, I reluctantly returned to my seat. And, my Big-Mac-Eating-Compression-Sock-Wearing-Polo-Wafting-Nervous-Fart-Window-Seat neighbor did her due diligence to make the rest of my flight a stinky one.
I'm the one with a bag here, people. But, it was awful. I'll never fly again.
Why Join MeetAnOstoMate?
First off, this is a pretty cool site with 33,090 members. Get inside and you will see.
We're not all about ostomy. Everything is being discussed in the forums.
It's a very special community, embracing all ages and backgrounds. People are honest and truly care.
Privacy is very important - the website has many features that are only visible to members.
Create an account and you will be amazed.
Advertisement
Hollister
When traveling, you need to pay special attention to your unique needs, issues, and potential hazards.
Learn about special travel considerations for your ostomy type, so you can be worry-free.
Learn about special travel considerations for your ostomy type, so you can be worry-free.