An Intrepid Frequent Flier Meets Her Water Loo

You’d think it would be hard to get lost on an airplane.

About an hour short of Heathrow Airport on our most recent trip abroad, I was beginning to think my wife had accomplished it.

I’d walked the inside of the big wide-body jet looking for her and was starting to wonder whether it was time to panic when one of the flight attendants approached.

“Sir,” she said. “Your traveling companion? Isn’t she the blond lady with the frosted hair?”

“My wife, right.”

“Well, sir,” she said, leaning forward and whispering. “I’m afraid she’s locked in the loo.”

Door Jammed Shut

I followed her back to the restroom, where two other female flight attendants and their male counterpart were quietly trying to pry a door open.

“Joyce?” I called out. “Are you in there?”

“Boy, am I ever!” her muffled voice came back.

“One of the stewardesses said a blond lady with frosted hair had locked herself in the bathroom. Figured it was you.”

“I didn’t lock myself in. I’ve been trying to tell them that. The dumb door broke.”

The cabin crew was embarrassed. I was assured that such a thing had never, ever happened before.

A man introduced himself as chief flight attendant Lyle Jameson. Then, with his face close to the door, he called out in a kind of a stage whisper: “Madam, can you brace yourself and push from the inside?”

“I’ll give it a try,” she said. The door bulged slightly and snapped back. That was followed almost immediately with raucous laughter from inside.

“She’s hysterical,” said one of the attendants.

“No,” Joyce said. “I just caught a shot of myself in the mirror, trying to brace myself against every fixture in here and pushing on this dumb door with my feet.”

Avoid Panic

Another flight attendant, who was beginning to sound a little panicky herself, told Joyce not to panic. Joyce said she’d been known to panic on being locked out of a bathroom, but never from being locked in one.

There was a little snickering from the passengers in the area. If the cabin crew had had any hopes of keeping the whole business a secret, those hopes were evaporating.

Jameson and I forced the base of the door open enough to slip a small prying tool to my wife so she could work from the inside.

“More to keep her busy than anything else,” he said. “Not much she can do from in there.”

Both he and I were sitting on the floor trying to work another crowbar into the crack at the edge of the door.

An elderly man pushed his way between the female flight attendants. “Pardon me,” he said. “I have to get in there.”

“Sorry, sir,” one of them said. “It’s not available.”

Sudden Emergency

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I absolutely have to get in there. This is an emergency.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir,” said the other female attendant. “It’s in use at the moment.”

“No it isn’t,” he countered. “The occupied sign is out. And did you know you’ve misspelled the word on the sign. You’ve got it as occupeed .”

“That is occupied in French, sir, and I assure you this toilet is occupeed . . . pied. In fact, it’s the most occupied toilet on this aircraft.”

The other female attendant said: “It’s full up, as a matter of fact. You might use one of the others.”

With some grousing, the old man moved back the way he’d come, muttering about the insensitivity of today’s airline personnel and how some people had a lot to learn about emergencies.

Moisture was beginning to show through the back of Jameson’s shirt. “If we seem ill-prepared for this, sir, it’s because it simply never happens, you know. Never.”

Rescue Attempts

I managed to get the edge of my crowbar under the lip of the door knob and gave a push. It shot off, narrowly missing one of the attendants.

“Hey,” Joyce called from inside. “I don’t know what I did, but my doorknob fell off in here. Does the captain know about this?”

“Yes, madam,” Jameson said. “He knows. Believe me, he knows.”

A voice trying to sound assured and friendly came on the public address system announcing that there might be a brief delay before the plane would enter the landing pattern at Heathrow due to a technical difficulty.

Jameson levered an opening at the bottom of the door and I got my fingers in next to it and started pulling.

Failed Effort

“Hey,” Joyce called. “I know those fingers. Bob, you be careful. Two of those are your typing fingers.” I pulled my hand out. The door was too springy anyway.

“As a matter of fact,” Jameson said, “I do know of one other lady being trapped in the loo . . . my mother.”

For a moment we forced the blade of the crowbar into the crack of the door. We both gave it a mighty push and it popped right out again. The two female flight attendants both said, “Oh,” with disappointment.

“It must have been 20 years ago, maybe longer,” Jameson said. “My mother was on one of the old Viscounts. There was a strict regulation about flushing the commodes on those aircraft unless you were standing up, if you follow me.” One of the female flight attendants was trying to suppress a giggle. Jameson looked up at her.

“How far out are we, Miss Martin?”

“About 10 minutes,” she said.

“Better get the ax.” She immediately went toward the front of the aircraft.

“The ax?” Joyce asked through the door.

Well-Made Plane

“I think it’s about that time,” Jameson said. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to pry this door off. This is one well-made airplane.”

“Except for the bathroom door latches, huh?” Joyce said.

“That’s a kind of fluke,” Jameson said. “It could happen to any kind of a conveyance, anytime. These planes are in a constant state of maintenance. I’d stake my life on them. That’s right; I do, don’t I?”

“Sir,” Joyce called out.

“Yes, ma’am?” Jameson asked.

“What happened to your mother? And could you get a little closer or talk a little louder?”

“Oh, yes. Well, my mother was somewhat overweight and those rules about flushing were made because on those old Viscounts, flushing made quite a pressure change in the apparatus itself. It was a little hard to tell my mother anything. She decided she’d flush when she damn well pleased. She did it, created a vacuum and for the next three hours there was no way she could escape that commode. She was there until the aircraft landed.

“Kind of gives the expression, ‘flying by the seat of one’s pants,’ a whole new meaning, huh?

“To this day she won’t visit the restroom on an aircraft.”

Using a Fire Ax

The female flight attendant Jameson had called Miss Martin came back with a short-handled fire ax.

Jameson immediately began chopping his way through the aluminum door with short, powerful strokes.

“Wouldn’t it be better,” I asked, “to wait till we’re on the ground and we could let the mechanics have a whack at it?”

“Sir,” Jameson said, “the captain takes the airline’s position on the whole matter very seriously. Until they put seat belts on the commodes, this airplane doesn’t land with anybody in there. Passengers will all be in their seats with seat belts fastened. That’s the rule.”

About 10 more blows and the locking mechanism bent, and Joyce was freed. “Call the captain,” Jameson said. One of the girls picked up a wall phone and began talking into it.

Joyce was more amused than embarrassed, but at least 10 people asked her if she was all right as we made our way back to our seats.

No Delay

The captain immediately announced on the public address system that the little problem that might have caused a delay in our landing at Heathrow had been solved and that we would be landing on time. The sound of the engines changed as the plane made its final approach.

Jameson and the two female flight attendants appeared in the aisle next to Joyce. “Madam,” Jameson said, “we want to apologize for the problem and we wish to present you with these.” With that, Miss Martin leaned over and pinned a pair of golden wings on Joyce’s blouse.

“We want you to have these. We think you really earned them.”

“Thank you,” Joyce said.

The delegation left to strap themselves in for the landing. “Which one of them,” Joyce asked, “described me as having frosted hair?” I pointed out Miss Martin.

“Nice girl,” Joyce said.

There was much handshaking and many more apologies from the officers and cabin crew as we left the plane. To allay any apprehensions the crew might have had, I said: “If you’re wondering whether anybody’s going to sue anybody, forget it. I may even get a story out of all this.”

Everybody laughed but Joyce.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

“Certainly not,” I replied. “Who’d believe it? You heard the man say it had never happened before. Besides, that would be crude and crass. What kind of a person do you think I am?”