When you have 60 passengers in an airplane idling on a snowed-packed runway for two hours, it would seem the last thing you'd want to do is start handing out bottled water.
But, hey, what do I know? I'm the mother who used to tell thirsty kids on a long trip to save their spit and swallow it.
And what do I know — I'm also the one who didn't think it was necessary to chew out the teenage girl and her mother at the security screening because the girl had a tube of mascara in her purse and not with her other liquids and gels in a plastic bag.
The security screener said it was a gel, the mother said it wasn't. The screener said it was, the mother said it wasn't.
Let's say mascara is a gel. Let's say all mascaras are gels — brown, dark brown, black, midnight blue, Cover Girl, Maybelline, L'oreal. What did the security folks think the girl was going to do — hold the plane hostage by threatening to lengthen the pilot's lashes?
If they want a real weapon, they ought to be shaking down female passengers for eyelash curlers. If you've ever jammed one of those puppies in your eye, you'd know they can inflict some serious pain.
In any case, I'm not about pain. I'm not about withholding food and water. Not until now.
We have sat so long on the runway watching it snow that the pilot announces we have to head back to the gate because we have burned up all our fuel. And after we refuel, we will have to de-ice again.
The stewardess flies down the aisle offering bottled water as a consolation gift.
The gesture is appreciated, but you don't have to be a math whiz to know that 10-ounce bottles of water multiplied times 60 bladders exceeds the capacity of one small bathroom wedged behind row 20.
Two minutes later, a line forms for the bathroom. Forty minutes later, the pilot comes on the intercom again and says the snow is so heavy that deicing may not be possible.
Sensing a restlessness, if not an outright riot, the stewardess again flies down the aisle offering more bottled water.
Twenty-ounces times 60, carry the one, bring down the zero — projected numbers are even worse than the round before.
Two thoughts cross my mind. First, I am thankful the seats are on a raised platform about two inches off the floor. Second, I fear we are going to need our seat cushions for flotation purposes, and not in the unlikely event of a water landing.
And now the stewardess has snacks. Peanuts, crackers, salty snacks. And salty snacks make passengers — what?
That's right, thirsty.
Water anyone?
A man returns from the back of the plane informing the stewardess that - shocker — the toilet is overflowing "like Lake Erie."
The stewardess calls maintenance. We refuel, wait for lighter snow and maintenance to work on the water levels in the bathroom.
Umpteen bottles of water and 4 1/2 hours after our scheduled departure time, the pilot announces we will attempt take off once again. Prepare for departure and turn off all electronics.
There's a new message on my cell. It's the airline calling — they wanted to let me know that my scheduled flight may be experiencing problems.
