Page 154 - Advance Copy: Todd Kaufman, Author

TODD KAUFMAN
makes them feel appreciated!) Dan was one of those guys who clearly lived in the gym when he was not at work, and it looked like his airline had issued him a suit that was a few sizes too small. I noticed his tattoos peeking out of his collar and shirt sleeve, and intentionally remarked they looked pretty cool. Dan succumbed to my friendly chatter and I found myself in the aisle seat, just behind the first class bulkhead, with lots of wiggle room and no neighbours. Score!
So there we were, a few hours into the flight. From my seat I could peak through the curtain that separated the cattle class from the well-travelled passengers who had likely redeemed a pile of hard-earned points. I had a clear view of seat 5C. I could tell the woman sitting in that seat was getting agitated and uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Madeline in 5C settled on the realization that this pressurized tube was likely to somehow explode, scattering us all into little bits over the prairies. No doubt, that visual was all she could imagine when her “Homer” must have started screaming in her head like a banshee from hell. She spontaneously matched that startling scream, and bolted forward toward the emergency exit. As a general rule, one should not go for the emergency exit when at an altitude of 36,000 feet and a speed of 512 mph.
As you now know, the executive functioning part of our brain is mostly offline when we think we are in an extreme emergency, and clearly Madeline had not thought her personal flight plan through.
Madeline only made it to row two. Mark, the onboard purser, who no doubt was Dan’s inspiration at the gym, intercepted her with a flying bear hug. He wrapped his massive frame around a totally freaked out, diminutive, four- foot-eight, 98 lbs., fleeing Madeline and carried her squirming and squealing like a feral kitten back to her seat.
The rest of the cabin crew converged on poor Madeline and the show of force (which was surprisingly compassionate)
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