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Vagabonding
A sexy librarian named Natasha and other surprises of the New Russia
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Wanderlust
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My life in a Chadian village took a roller-coaster turn when I became obsessed with the local bad boy.
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Vagabonding
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[11/12/99]

Vagabonding
The Trans-Siberian Toilet War
Left behind for a surmised breach of lavatory protocol, our correspondent and his two companions lead a desperate, paranoid, all-out car chase in an attempt to cut off the train at Ulan Ude.
By Rolf Potts
[11/11/99]

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When I scanned the cabin I saw none of these things, however. What I saw instead was a terrified woman who had apparently just leapt from her seat. With a semi-steady finger, she pointed to the floor. "There, there it is!" she said.

It was a cockroach. A common household cockroach. Denizen of seedy tenements and penthouse condominiums alike. One of a breed of more than 4,000 species of cockroaches, the likes of which will continue to thrive on this planet long after mankind is annihilated by meteorites, nuclear war or 24-hour global simulcasts of the Jerry Springer show. Yes. La cucaracha. Virtually unchanged since it first began twitching its antennae some 320 million years ago. And one of their kind was just a foot away from me, scaring the hell out of one of my passengers. I watched dispassionately as the helpless insect scuttled across the matted carpet of our Boeing 727, which just happened to be headed to New York, cockroach capital of the United States.

Perhaps this particular cockroach had family there.

"Do something!" the woman demanded. She glared at me as if my flight attendant uniform resembled that of an Orkin exterminator. After fighting off an impulse to tell her to chill out, I raised my size 10 and a half Dr. Marten's boot, dropped it on the previously rambunctious (now suddenly lifeless) stowaway cockroach, then locked eyes with the grateful passenger who reacted as if I'd yanked her from the clutches of death. I scanned the cabin, wondering if some insect-rights activist would rise from his seat and threaten me with an indictment. Realizing that the coast was clear, I placed an open airsick bag on the floor, kicked the flattened corpse inside and dumped the package into a lavatory trash receptacle.

No big deal, right? Wrong. The cold-blooded murder of this particular cockroach quickly became the topic of passenger conversation. As I walked up the aisle, assuring worried passengers that the SWAT team wouldn't be needed after all, a handful of passengers glared at me. They really did. All of God's creatures deserve the right to live! I could almost hear this unspoken mantra spouting from the pursed lips of a few. I had just killed a cockroach, a semi-conscious act committed by 6 billion people every day -- in schools, homes, even in the kitchens of four-star restaurants -- and yet three or four passengers were staring at me as if the initials on my employee name tag read O.J.

Needless to say, I was shocked by their reaction. But had I allowed the cockroach to live, there would have been at least one inconsolable passenger, and dozens who would look twice when we served the chicken fricassee.

This wasn't the first time I'd seen an unwanted critter in the airplane cabin. Nor was this the first time a passenger has asked me to "do something" about it.

In addition to dispatching the occasional cockroach, I've swatted flies and moths, cornered a mouse, chased a wayward bird until it flew out of an exit door (the plane was on the ground in the Dominican Republic at the time) and recovered a dachshund who sprinted to the first class cabin after being let out of its carry-on kennel by a heartsick owner.

When we finally caught the diminutive doggie and demanded that the owner place him back in the container, the dog whined incessantly. This prompted a heated debate between passengers and cabin crew. As long as the dog was in its owner's arms, he was quiet. When forced back into his tiny under-the-seat-in-front-of-you kennel prison, he yelped like a coked-out hyena.

If it were up to me, the owner would have been allowed to hold the dog in her arms, if for no other reason than to spare other passengers from constant auditory stress. But the Federal Aviation Administration mandates that carry-on pets are not -- repeat, not -- to be let out of their kennels at any time. If a concerned passenger saw an uncaged pet and decided to phone the FAA with a report, the airline, believe it or not, could quite possibly face a fine. This is yet another case of airline regulation gone amok. With the noisy pooch locked in his container, the yelping continued. Finally, after a disgruntled passenger threatened to do to the dachshund what I had done to the cockroach, we let the dog out of the kennel and into the arms of its appreciative owner.

But birds and cockroaches and runaway dachshunds are minor annoyances compared with what happened on a few recent flights.

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