By Josh Simons on Jun 22, 2008
[WARNING: This blog entry is primarily about vomit.]
I flew home from Dresden via Frankfurt on Friday, boarding LH 422 for the eight-hour flight to Boston. Sitting just forward of me was a coed group of boisterous college-aged kids who mostly quieted down once they had stowed their gear and found their seats. With the exception of Oscar, who was sitting two seats in front of me across the aisle.
Oscar's behavior went beyond boisterous, well into the realm of obnoxious. He was loud, he was rude, he was up out of his seat repeatedly, unable to sit still. I'm a seasoned air traveler and very used to ignoring the various mis-behaviors of my fellow passengers, but there was something about Oscar I found particularly grating. He persisted in this behavior up until the first meal service, at which point some god out of some pantheon smote him but good and he threw up all over himself in spectacular fashion. When he stood up after being directed aft by an attendant, I saw that he was literally covered in vomit--all over his shirt and down his pant legs and in considerable quantity. And there was apparently enough left over to have covered the seat as well, since the attendant later placed a pillow on it to make the seat usable again.
Peace reigned for most of an hour while Oscar presumably cleaned himself up. He then reappeared--shirtless. Perhaps a little quieter, but still with plenty of swagger. Which I must say I viewed with some amusement since his cool demeanor did not jive with the fact that from the rear one could see that the entire crotch of his pants was completely packed with now-drying vomit which he had apparently missed in the clean-up effort. Ah, I thought to myself. This was schadenfreude.
Eventually one his of traveling companions gave Oscar a t-shirt and he fell asleep sitting on his vomit-laden pillow for most of the remainder of the flight. Later, mention of a $120 bar bill lead me to conclude that Oscar had had far too much to drink prior to boarding the flight.