In flight accidents

British Airways. One of the most perfect airlines of all time. Good meals delivered in a timely fashion, individual movie screens on the seat in front of you, and they practically beg you to take their free wine.

The only problem? British Airways picks your seat for you upon check-in.

This is how I ended up in a window seat on the eight hour flight home from London tonight. For a normal person, a window seat isn't bad. A window seat can be a bit of a treat. For me, with my infinitesimally small bladder, a window seat is like a cruel joke. And it can be no better for the poor aisle-seater that has to keep hopping up and down for me.

I tried to change my seat online. I tried to change it via phone. I tried to change it in the airport-- twice. No dice.

So I took my window seat and hoped for the best. The girl next to me was quiet in a creepy sort of way, and reading a tiny paperback with titles in a language I couldn't recognize (but text in English). She got up to use the restroom after the first meal, and I darted up after, sprinted to the other bathroom and managed to make it back to my seat before she returned. Score. One uncomfortable scoot-by avoided.

She returned fifteen minutes later, covered in vomit stains. Then she proceeded to pass out, at which point I remembered the blue pills she'd taken with the meal.

So I watched Slumdog Millionaire and squirmed and tried not to think of the glass of wine, diet coke, and glass of orange juice I'd consumed (I get very dehydrated on planes...I have to drink the offered beverages. Plus I am coming down with a cold). Slumdog ended. I could hold it no longer. I gently tapped her shoulder and said a soft "Excuse me."

Nothing. Not a flinch. Not even a change in breathing pattern.

I tried again. Nope. I only got a response five minutes later when I worked up the never to violently shake her shoulder. She stumbled out of the seat groggily and I made it there and back and had to wake her up again to get back in (it was the middle of the afternoon also. Not many people were asleep).

I came back, watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (more boring than curious, I found) and every once in awhile checked my companion to make sure she was still breathing. After the longest movie EVER, I had to wake her again for another bathroom break. She then passed out for the remainder of the flight.

I had a fantastic time in England. I have probably forgotten one eighth of it already. Years in the future, I will probably forget the gardens at Blenheim Palace or my family's tea party at Fordham and Mason or middle sister and I convincing the youngest sister that Winston Churchill was a minor member of parliament and a famous songwriter (he wrote "Fly Me to the Moon," most famously covered by Frank Sinatra). I will probably always remember that I sat next to a girl who vomitted all over herself and couldn't get up to use the bathroom.

It's sad, sometimes, the way the human mind works.