Scottish Tale, the beginning at the end
Morning came early yesterday but with flights leaving at 8 and 9 am, there was little choice but to rise at 5 am. A wash, a brushing and a quick cab ride navigating the traffic brought us to the airport and the end of the time in Scotland. The airport was uneventful, but crowded. At the terminal I looked out at the rain and clouds, silently thinking back over the clouds moving across the light sky on the cold morning over Loch Ness, the warmth of the dark wood in the Whitehart Inn as I enjoyed a rich, dark coffee and a freshly cooked lunch. Good memories, ones to keep and treasure on the cold days like that day.
The ride to Amsterdam was calm and only took an hour. I enjoyed the conversation with a Scottish lady on her way to a vacation adventure of her own in New York City. Broadway specifically. I imagine that she and her daughter will have a wonderful time.
My arrival into Amsterdam was unusual. Long lines and a new security checkpoint was what I faced. While this was the end of my Scotland experience and adventure, I did not realize that my adventure had one surprise left for me. Dutch customs was polite and even approachable, but they were indeed thorough. After checking all the passengers, we boarded and were in the air after an hour. On the plane I found myself seated between a member of the Dutch Royal Air Force and a fascinating young lady who was a commercial jet pilot who had been volunteering in Africa. He was travelling to the States for a class on antennas and her was for medical treatment over the malaria she caught in Tanzania. If that sounds like the beginning of a thriller manuscript, then such a guess would be right.
Despite the overly curt flight attendent, a young man obviously new to the job, the flight went relatively uneventful at first. I chatted with the young lady pilot on my left, talking some over our jobs and lives, places and times far away from us at the moment until lunch was served. It was the typical airline fare for economy class, 'nuke and serve' instant meals with a side of bread and salad. Nothing too fancy but nothing terrible. I ate a good portion of my meal but my travelling companion Jenny ate little as she was tired and lost her appetite to the malaria.
The attendants took away the meals but then only a few minutes later an attendant called for a doctor. Jenny and I looked around to see what was going on and spotted a knot of people clustered only six seats ahead over someone. Finally, a paramedic raised his hand and offered to help. Between him and the flight attendants, they helped a young Indian man back to the mid-plane area for flight attendants. It was thought he was airsick, something I considered unusual to say the least. We were in a large Airbus 330, no turbulance and I thought it was fairly stable as a rock. Thinking little of it, aside from hopes he would recover, I returned to my writing and Jenny to her nap.
Then another person fell ill and then another. Then another call for a doctor came over the loudspeaker. Flight attendants were doing their best but in the end were not keeping any more calm than the passengers who were becoming alarmed over the calls for doctors. Jenny asked me what was going on, to which I didn't know. I thought back to the start, the first passenger was Indian. Given the meal choices, I made a guess he might have chosen the noodle dish. Looking at the other passengers, I couldn't guess as to what they had but as they came down with but they had to have the same thing. Then an attendant came to get the gentleman next to me, asking him about his companion and if he had any medical problems. The answer was no, but despite that I noticed that a fourth passenger, himself another member of the Dutch air force, was on oxygen in the same place as the other ill passengers. When the man who had been so quietly sitting on my right returned, we asked if his friend was going to be alright. He replied that he would need to be put into the hospital on landing that he was suddenly not feeling well. All through this, people started making their way to the lavatories rather quickly.
I turned to Jenny and talked it out. For something to hit this fast after the plane had been in the air over the atlantic for so long, it pointed to something ingested. Going to the meal, I listed out what was served. Jenny and I each had the two types of meals offered. Both had a salad, bread, dessert but the main course was different. Now the main course was prepackaged and obviously needed microwaving. Good guess that most paracites would be removed at that point. The salad had been refrigerated and was fresh, also it was mostly lettuce, cabbage and some tomatoes. Jenny had eaten little, being ill with her malaria. I had eaten more, but both of us tried the dessert. Her only a bite, myself most of it.
I repeat this to her and tell her that assuming that the Indian man ate mostly a modified vegetarian meal, he would have possibly had the noodles. The others had the same attendant we had, the smart alec young man. When asked he was recommending the noodles and not the chicken. Most were taking his advice. I didn't and took the chicken. But that meant that a good many of the ill passengers possibly had the noodles, possibly.
Taking a leap of faith, I deduced down that the bread was fine, the salad was likely innocent. That meant the microwave meals and the dessert was suspect. My meal was well heated and fully cooked, that left the dessert. The dessert was a custard of some kind, slightly whipped and very gel like. It was slightly warm, despite that I thought it should be colder. That lead me to suspect the dessert was bad, which would explain the very sick passengers, such as the Indian man, the Dutch pilot and so on. Each had the dessert since it was the common food served to both.
I mentioned this to Jenny who told me that it seemed very likely. She figured out where we were using the inflight map, and determined that the pilot ought to be turning around to set down. She figured out the logical places on the map he would go, if he was told. Apparently the flight crew has to tell the pilot there is a problem. Given how alarmed the flight crew was, it was unlikely the pilot was told.
In any case, the word made it back to the paramedic about the food poisoning theory and the illness cases settled down. The pilot did push on and the rest of the flight was tense, but rather uneventful. As for myself, I suffered no jet lag again but apparently, the super dry recycled air played havoc with my metabolism as I got a terrible migraine. The light case of food poisoning didn't help either.
Finally we landed, a 10 hour flight squeezed into a nice compact 11+ hours. Changing planes, I made it out to Huntsville and home. Tired, worn thin, I was glad to be back. The trip was worthwhile, I saw things that I'd never thought I'd see. And I found places I want to return to regularly as a vacation spot to relax.
The ride to Amsterdam was calm and only took an hour. I enjoyed the conversation with a Scottish lady on her way to a vacation adventure of her own in New York City. Broadway specifically. I imagine that she and her daughter will have a wonderful time.
My arrival into Amsterdam was unusual. Long lines and a new security checkpoint was what I faced. While this was the end of my Scotland experience and adventure, I did not realize that my adventure had one surprise left for me. Dutch customs was polite and even approachable, but they were indeed thorough. After checking all the passengers, we boarded and were in the air after an hour. On the plane I found myself seated between a member of the Dutch Royal Air Force and a fascinating young lady who was a commercial jet pilot who had been volunteering in Africa. He was travelling to the States for a class on antennas and her was for medical treatment over the malaria she caught in Tanzania. If that sounds like the beginning of a thriller manuscript, then such a guess would be right.
Despite the overly curt flight attendent, a young man obviously new to the job, the flight went relatively uneventful at first. I chatted with the young lady pilot on my left, talking some over our jobs and lives, places and times far away from us at the moment until lunch was served. It was the typical airline fare for economy class, 'nuke and serve' instant meals with a side of bread and salad. Nothing too fancy but nothing terrible. I ate a good portion of my meal but my travelling companion Jenny ate little as she was tired and lost her appetite to the malaria.
The attendants took away the meals but then only a few minutes later an attendant called for a doctor. Jenny and I looked around to see what was going on and spotted a knot of people clustered only six seats ahead over someone. Finally, a paramedic raised his hand and offered to help. Between him and the flight attendants, they helped a young Indian man back to the mid-plane area for flight attendants. It was thought he was airsick, something I considered unusual to say the least. We were in a large Airbus 330, no turbulance and I thought it was fairly stable as a rock. Thinking little of it, aside from hopes he would recover, I returned to my writing and Jenny to her nap.
Then another person fell ill and then another. Then another call for a doctor came over the loudspeaker. Flight attendants were doing their best but in the end were not keeping any more calm than the passengers who were becoming alarmed over the calls for doctors. Jenny asked me what was going on, to which I didn't know. I thought back to the start, the first passenger was Indian. Given the meal choices, I made a guess he might have chosen the noodle dish. Looking at the other passengers, I couldn't guess as to what they had but as they came down with but they had to have the same thing. Then an attendant came to get the gentleman next to me, asking him about his companion and if he had any medical problems. The answer was no, but despite that I noticed that a fourth passenger, himself another member of the Dutch air force, was on oxygen in the same place as the other ill passengers. When the man who had been so quietly sitting on my right returned, we asked if his friend was going to be alright. He replied that he would need to be put into the hospital on landing that he was suddenly not feeling well. All through this, people started making their way to the lavatories rather quickly.
I turned to Jenny and talked it out. For something to hit this fast after the plane had been in the air over the atlantic for so long, it pointed to something ingested. Going to the meal, I listed out what was served. Jenny and I each had the two types of meals offered. Both had a salad, bread, dessert but the main course was different. Now the main course was prepackaged and obviously needed microwaving. Good guess that most paracites would be removed at that point. The salad had been refrigerated and was fresh, also it was mostly lettuce, cabbage and some tomatoes. Jenny had eaten little, being ill with her malaria. I had eaten more, but both of us tried the dessert. Her only a bite, myself most of it.
I repeat this to her and tell her that assuming that the Indian man ate mostly a modified vegetarian meal, he would have possibly had the noodles. The others had the same attendant we had, the smart alec young man. When asked he was recommending the noodles and not the chicken. Most were taking his advice. I didn't and took the chicken. But that meant that a good many of the ill passengers possibly had the noodles, possibly.
Taking a leap of faith, I deduced down that the bread was fine, the salad was likely innocent. That meant the microwave meals and the dessert was suspect. My meal was well heated and fully cooked, that left the dessert. The dessert was a custard of some kind, slightly whipped and very gel like. It was slightly warm, despite that I thought it should be colder. That lead me to suspect the dessert was bad, which would explain the very sick passengers, such as the Indian man, the Dutch pilot and so on. Each had the dessert since it was the common food served to both.
I mentioned this to Jenny who told me that it seemed very likely. She figured out where we were using the inflight map, and determined that the pilot ought to be turning around to set down. She figured out the logical places on the map he would go, if he was told. Apparently the flight crew has to tell the pilot there is a problem. Given how alarmed the flight crew was, it was unlikely the pilot was told.
In any case, the word made it back to the paramedic about the food poisoning theory and the illness cases settled down. The pilot did push on and the rest of the flight was tense, but rather uneventful. As for myself, I suffered no jet lag again but apparently, the super dry recycled air played havoc with my metabolism as I got a terrible migraine. The light case of food poisoning didn't help either.
Finally we landed, a 10 hour flight squeezed into a nice compact 11+ hours. Changing planes, I made it out to Huntsville and home. Tired, worn thin, I was glad to be back. The trip was worthwhile, I saw things that I'd never thought I'd see. And I found places I want to return to regularly as a vacation spot to relax.