Position Report: Flight Level 390. Somewhere over the Atlantic. Things are about to get shitty.
Starting out it was a pretty good day in Paris. Light winds, overcast skies but the temperature was tolerable. We pushed 5 minutes early for our flight back to the United States and we were all anxious to get back home.
Coasting out over the Atlantic we said our goodbyes to Shannon Control and settled in for our 4 hour crossing.
The cabin interphone rang and I thought perhaps my dinner was ready. Or was it lunch. I'm not sure but the sun is up and I'm tired. Whatever, it'll do.
"Hey guys? We have a write up," says our Lead Flight Attendant Roger.
Usually it's a broken coffee maker, a young kid pukes on his seat...the usual. But it's not my lunch.
"Yeah, what is it?," I say.
Word for word: "You're not going to fucking believe this. Some asshole shit in the sink of the lav. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
What? You mean my chicken isn't ready?
OK, no matter how hard we try there isn't a checklist for "Asshole Shits in Sink" although we did look. The best we could come up with is "Biological Hazard" but is seems the writers of that checklist were planning on Al Qaeda using the latest Breast Implant Explosive (BIE), not Steaming Pile in Lav (SPL).
So what are we to do?
Combining our combined 50 years of aviation knowledge we came up with the best solution: we placarded the lav inop and continued on to our destination.
Yes, this really happened.
For all of you who don't wear shoes to the lav but rather your socks, because it's so inconvenient to put your shoes on, let this be a lesson.
Sometimes flying is a shitty experience. Literally.