It’s amazing how air travel can instantaneously alter one’s demeanor, or capacity for logical thought. Passengers who would normally be half-decent beings on ground would suddenly turn savage at the first sign of motion from the seat ahead being reclined. Others would look at you with puzzled expressions as you went through the cabin offering water or a selection of juices from a silver tray, asking if the mysterious clear liquid was water, or the amber fluid apple juice. You know, because it’s common practice for any establishment to serve rum, vodka and whiskey by the cupful.
I had been about seven or eight years into the job at this point, so I was a senior and in charge of an entire cabin. During the briefing for a flight from Canterlot to the Crystal Empire, we were informed of a VIP passenger traveling in first class. The two mares working in first class groaned in sync when the purser announced that Prince Blueblood would be aboard, and while I’ve never met the stallion before, I had heard plenty of stories. Turns out he was only flying with us because he had abused his personal pegasus carriage privileges, and Princess Celestia revoked those rights.
I was quite certain I had read a news article a few days prior, regarding an unidentified group of individuals, a flaming chariot, and several demolished billboards.
I had been horribly wrong in my assumption that this flight would have been a piece of cake. Somehow, flights with light loads turn out to be more troublesome than those that are overbooked. Go figure. While my crew and I were wrapping up service in economy class, the one assigned to look after Blueblood found herself unable to keep up with the demands of the pompous Prince.
Practically entombed in one of our famous blankets made with the finest of pegasus downs in the luxurious first class seat that barely managed to contain his own ego, he banged on and on about his political policies to the visibly disinterested elderly passenger nearby. Whenever the female crew would pass by, he would let loose a barrage of not-so-subtle innuendos and made it very clear as to what particular part of a mare’s anatomy he would like to bury his 'equipment' in. Upon hearing about that particular bit, I had an overpowering urge to bury the crash axe in his flank, and believe me, that is no euphemism.
Barely able to handle him anymore, I found out about the situation after I received a call via the interphone to the very back of the aircraft, where I had been busying myself with wiping down the surfaces of the galley. Deciding she needed some help, I delegated my galley responsibilities to the most experienced crew and headed up to the front. As soon as I left the galley, the seatbelt sign turned on, and we encountered some light turbulence.
According to our operations manual, light turbulence is defined as momentarily causing slight erratic changes in aircraft altitude. Passengers may feel a slight strain on their seatbelts and there may be a little difficulty in walking through the cabin, but loose objects remain stable and liquids do not splash out of cups.
As I continued waddling up the aisle to the front, grasping passenger seats for stability like one who had become slightly inebriated, I observed the Prince reclined flat in his seat, levitating a mirror in his magic while gingerly adjusting his glossed mane. Noting his seatbelt was unfastened, I politely asked him to observe the seatbelt sign, which promptly resulted in a dirty look of hostility that clearly said How dare you give me orders. Dismissing me, I left and spoke to my colleague, who by this point was visibly stressed, with several loose strands of her mane sticking out, and her tail flicking in annoyance as she explained the situation to me.
As the flight progressed and I continued assisting her in the first class galley, the weather worsened and moved up to moderate turbulence. With moderate turbulence, you will encounter rapid bumps and jolts, causing more pronounced changes to both altitude and attitude of the aircraft. There is a definite strain against seatbelts for passengers, and crew will find it difficult to walk through the cabin or push a cart in a straight line.
I had been securing the first class galley, ensuring containers and stowages were double-latched, and that all loose items were put away, when my colleague rushed towards me with panic evident in her voice. Our esteemed guest seemed to be having some sort of difficulty. Exiting the galley, I found our VIP with his seat fully upright, hunched over and his seatbelt pulled taut over himself. Looking up at me, his dignity appeared stripped away from him. “When...is this—urp—bumping...going...to stop?”
I fought the urge to put on a shit-eating grin, but the fact that he watched me standing, visibly jerking to and fro by the area of rough air, sent him into a full-blown anxiety attack, eliciting a rather feminine shriek from the Prince. As he started to hyperventilate, he looked up at me, begging for my forgiveness against his transgressions, as if I had somehow conjured up this weather to teach him a lesson.
Rolling my eyes, I drew nearer and let him know that there was nothing to worry about. I've had weather severe enough to send fully loaded beverage carts configured for breakfast into the air as we fell out of the sky in an air pocket, causing the cart to slam back on the floor, spraying milk and orange juice over everypony and everything nearby. Granted, I didn't tell that to the Prince, but I tried to let him know that what we were experiencing was normal, and that I had been through far worse without any issues. Unconvinced, he muttered two simple words:
“Hold me.”
My eyes widened enough that they threatened to shoot out of my sockets and give the Prince a concussion.
“P-Please hold me.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, the aircraft lurched violently with severe turbulence. Under this definition, the aircraft finds itself with significant, abrupt changes to altitude and attitude and may be out of control for short periods. Passengers are forced violently against their seatbelts and it is impossible to walk or stand. Unsecured items, be it cups or fully loaded carts, may lift off the floor and fly through the cabin.
At this point, crew will find themselves crawling to the nearest available seat, regardless of whether or not it is occupied. For me, I had no choice but to share a seat with the Prince and unfortunately acquiesce in his request. Burying his face into my uniform, I held him tighter when I noticed tears soaking into my uniform between his bouts of muffled wailing. Feeling his ever-increasing heart rate beating throughout his entire body, he profusely apologized for his actions on the flight, and vowed to change his ways.
Several minutes passed, with him listing regretful actions in reverse chronological order, until the weather eventually cleared up and his grip on me loosened. In the awkwardness that ensued, I decided to leave and make sure my crew back in economy class were okay. Despite the weather, we landed without further incident or any delays. Upon disembarkation however, Blueblood acted as if nothing ever happened, and reverted to his old self, leaving promptly with his head held high, though not before attempting to force me into signing a non-disclosure agreement he had hastily written up onto a scrap piece of paper. Considering that an event like this was some juicy galley gossip, I signed the form with false credentials. I know a few ponies who would love to hear what the Prince did with the revenue from the recent cupcake tax.
Something told me that dear Prince Blueblood probably returned to Canterlot on a train, though.