Normally passengers are great people, but you do get the exception to the rule.
I was flying a beautiful Cessna 206, polished to gleaming perfection, with all the comforts a passenger could possibly need, from soft leather seats, more leg room in the middle row of seats than you would dream of in cattle class on any airline, as well as charge points and aircon.
I flew out to a game lodge to pick up a family one glorious blue-sky morning.
As the game vehicle arrived with the passengers, I could already see the dark clouds gathering and the look of utter revulsion on the face of the man sitting in the first row of seats in the game vehicle.
I walked up to the vehicle and greeted the ranger and the passengers with warm smile. The man looked down at me from his elevated seat, in a way that you would look at a fly swimming in your class of Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru from 1949.
'What, is that?' He half nodded towards the 206, pulling a face.
With a forced smile, I explained that that was a Cessna 206 and that was his flight to Grand Central as he requested. 'I ordered that other PC aircraft, not this piece of junk' came his answer.
My eye caught the white face of his wife and the big eyes of his young daughter watching all of this.
Keeping a very straight face, I said to him that I'm sure, if he asked for the PC 12, the company would have sent him one and maybe there was a mistake, but ever so helpful, I suggested that I call the company and see when a PC 12 would be available to come and pick them up. I walked away so that I was out of ear shot and proceeded to phone the company. They said he did ask for the PC 12, but when he saw the price, nearly fainted and opted for the more budget friendly option, ie me and the 206.
On my return to the group, I informed him that there is unfortunately no PC 12 available immediately as they were all fully booked for the next week. He was more than welcome to extend his stay while he waits for the PC 12. The game ranger looked at me with pleading eyes. Or, I suggested, if they would like to catch their booked flight home, they could always fly with me in that aircraft. The man threw his hands in the air, uttered a couple of words which would have made a sailor blush, and jumped off the vehicle. The game ranger kindly assisted me to load their luggage in the aircraft. Due to the size of their bags, I could not stow them in the belly pod and had to make a plan with packing the bags on the back seat.
I generously invited the little girl to sit in front with me and proceeded to assist the parents into the middle row of seats. The father was still fuming, looking like a real Highveld thunderstorm in summer, muttering obscenities.
Little did they know that I did not want him anywhere close to the controls of the aircraft and that I wanted to isolate them from the intercom system, so that I did not have to listen to him all the way back to Grand Central. I stacked a couple of my flying cushions for girl so that she could see over the door windowsill, and she was chatting away the whole flight about her ballet and the animals she saw at the lodge. I could see the dad, seated at the door, still making angry hand gestures, red in the face.
After landing, during the taxi at Grand Central, I asked the passengers, as per normal, to stay seated until I shut down the aircraft. The man was already sitting with his seatbelt undone, ready to get out.
We stopped on the apron. As I am busy shutting down the aircraft, he already had the back door open, trying to get out. I told the little girl to stay put, hurriedly placed the chocks and ran around his side of the aircraft to open the other half of the door and help them out.
I strode back to help the little girl out the aircraft. While helping the girl out the aircraft I saw the commotion as he tried to pull a heavy bag over the upright back of the seat. He could not wait for me to assist him. I hurried back, but he shoved me out the way: “I will do it myself' he snarled.
As you know, the 206 has a flap very close to the back door. Even when raised, the flap sits quite low. In the process of yanking the bag over the back seat he violently stepped back as the bag moved fee and smacked his head into the flap with a bang.
I've walked into the lowered flap during a preflight with my cap on one day to the point where I saw stars so he must have given himself a proper bump on the head from that violent manoeuvre. The cursing grew even more in volume and profanity. His wife and daughter said nothing and just stared at him. He grabbed his bag and stormed ahead, while I brought up the rear with his wife and daughter and the remaining bags.
He walked away with a very vivid reminder of why having champaign taste on a beer budget and being nasty about it does not work.
Our next story will be about a true champaign person from Australia.
