Like everyone that lives in C-Ville, the ultimate goal for every weekend is to get out of hell (i.e. leave the village). I did a long weekend down in sunny (and cool for a change) Florida. Today was the return trip. Life was good until I got on board the plane heading back to the village from Dulles. A mere 24 minute flight. Should be simple.

But first step back one hour. I had a bit more than an hour to kill so I was wandering around getting some snacks (Dulles might be the most reasonably priced airport food in the country). For the first time I noticed the outdoor “smoking cages” that people were standing in. These were literally cages attached to the side of the building on big metal support beams sticking out of the wall. I’d seen the nice cloudy rooms where smokers like to hang out (bonus smoke is good…right?). I was wondering if two people went in there with just one cigarette would a cage match start? Forty quatloos on the Virginian.

Now jump ahead one hour and ten minutes. Our puny little twin prop plane is about to take off. The stewardess (not the right term..but can’t remember what is proper) goes through the standard spiel…no smoking, no getting up when the seat belt sign is on, fasten seat belt, use emergency exits in an emergency…you know the story. She sits in the front row and the plane make it in to the air.

About three minutes later (on a 24 minute flight) a gentleman near the back of the plane heads in to the restroom. A moment later the steward gets a call on the pilot phone (similar to a bat phone). She answers, and immediately heads back to the restroom. At the same time we get the announcement that there has been a malfunction with a smoke detector on our plane, and we are heading back to good old Dulles.

It all seemed a tad suspicious. What was the C-Ville-ite doing in the can? Why did the steward run back so quickly?

As we get back on the ground we head back off the plane. Beside the ground support folks tossing our bags around, there were two men with sidearms and a really cute German Shepherd (cute as in…it looks like it could eat you). I patiently waited for my carryon bag to be pulled out of cargo. When the man that had gone in to the restroom came out the two men chatted with him, and then cuffed him. The steward handed the men a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches.

Apparently the pilot (aka commissioner Gordon) had used the bat phone to let the steward know that the smoke alarm in the restroom had gone off.

We were told the plane needed a bit of mechanical work to repair the smoke detector, so we got to sit around for about an hour.

I’m so glad to be back in a village. If only he had managed to wait another 21 minutes to light up that cigarette. It would have saved me two hours. Maybe he should look at the latest news that smoking wrinkles your entire body, not just your face. I seem to recall Kramer learned about that a few years ago.

Kramer Portrait

When will I next get out of dodge? If I’m like everyone else around here it will probably be this weekend…but instead I guess I’ll be running a 5k. Hmm…would a cigarette help? Can I wait until I finish my 5k. That will take about 21 minutes. I’ll try.