You, Me, Parking Lot at 10 o’clock

Bring it on, Be-aytch,”

The Gate Gourmet caterer yelled as she wheeled the food cart down the aisle.

“Temperatures rising,”

The Isley Brothers’ tune popped into my mind.

As soon as I boarded the plane, I could feel the tension. I did my best not to add to it. I got to the plane early so I wouldn’t have to rush through my safety checks. Unfortunately, my timing was off, and now caterers, cleaners, and crew were on at the same time – a recipe for disasters.

Caterers boarded food and drinks from door 2 left, Scrubs crawled through the seats picking up trash and wiping down trays, and at once, all collided.

I didn’t see it happen, but it wasn’t hard to figure out the Gate Gourmet rolled over a Scrub, and it was on and popping.

“BRING IT ON!” “Considered it ‘Brung,’ Bi-yatch!” “I’ll meet you in the parking lot at 10 o’clock.” “I’ll meet you at Jack’s Market.” Quick thinking prevailed.

Fighting on federal property is akin to terroristic’ activity. Therefore, airline employees and contractors are extremely diligent regarding the safety and security of the aircraft.

“You just a Scrub, anyway!” the caterer lashed out.

It wasn’t really a personal attack, the cleaners work for Scrub, Inc., and the four-inch high neon-green letters emblazoned across the back of the uniform spell out “Scrubs.”

If management had to wear those uniforms, would they opt for a more dignified, less conspicuous design?

A United Customer Service Representative traveling down the jet-bridge to cool off from a “hot flash” (her words) heard all the commotion. She questioned the Purser about the goings-on only to find the purser was trying to make sense of it too.

As the Purser relayed the story to the CSR, the Captain, and First Officer, it dawned on her she had no clue as to where Jack’s Market was located. Too bad, too; we were expected to return to O’Hare around 8:30, just enough time to see the fight go down.

I kid, I kid!

The CSR reported the incident. Everyone not going to Washington-Reagan airport deplaned, and the flight went off without further incident.

Except I was left with this one question:

Why fight over territory? Why do we argue over the small space we occupy, even if it’s only in that moment? Aren’t we stewards of the land, not its owners?

Copyright 2010 MH