A Shot in the Dark. By Aileen Cleave

A SHOT IN THE DARK

A very loud bang rang out, sounding for all the world like a gunshot, echoing through the plane and  intensifying the fear felt by passengers still recovering from a very bumpy take off.  It was a night flight and the lights had just been dimmed.

“Madre Mia!!  Que pasa,?”

“My god, what was that!”

The stewardess passing through the plane with a trolley of sustenance for a plane full of mostly over-weight, certainly well fed passengers, tried to reassure everyone.

“No os preoccupies!  Please don’t worry”.

Just as she spoke and moved down the aisle, a further loud bang reverberated through the cabin.

This time very real panic could be felt, with people starting to stand up, and the call sign  at a seat somewhere near the front flashing alarmingly.

The young stewardess hindered by the trolley in front of her, did her best to calm the nearest passengers, whilst trying to catch the attention of her colleague in the front of the plane.

“Please stay in your seats, with your seat belt fastened.  I’m sure there is nothing to worry about”.

She was joined by another colleague from the rear of the plane.  They talked quietly so no passenger could hear.

“I don.t know what it was but it seemed to come from the front.”  

As if in response, a further call sign started to flash while at the same time another bang rang out, again seemingly from the front of the plane.

The colleague newly arrived at the trolley was obviously more experienced and took charge,

“Maria, try to squeeze round the trolley and see what the alarm callers want.   Therese at the front has obviously gone to sleep”. Indeed,there was no sign of Theresa.

Maria had no trouble in squeezing her slender form passed the trolley, and hurried up the aisle towards the first flashing light,

“You called, sir?”  she asked the elderly gentleman, who, like other passengers, was looking decidedly agitated.

“I did” and he held out a large packet  of  crisps, very overfilled.   “I’m really hungry and want to eat these but it seems every time I open one of these a very loud bang ensues and it frightens passengers”,

Maria stared in disbelief at the old man.  

“How many packets have you eaten?” she asked incredulously 

“Does it matter?” he asked, rather haughtily, “I’m very hungry and there is nothing else but Spanish olives on your trolley”.

Maria smiled sweetly at him.

“Of course not, sir”  and went away  to explain to her passengers the phenomenon of the air-filled crisp packet that can’t be opened without something of a frightening shot in the dark.

Having explained via the microphone the totally prosaic reason for the so called gunshots, Maria steered the trolley to the tiny galley kitchen and drew the curtain, preparing to empty the trolley again.

“Now please”, she felt the coldness of steel against her temple, “we don’t want a real  gunshot, it would destroy the pressure in the cabin.  Your colleagues  are safely tied up with the pilot so to speak.We just need you to maintain calm while we divert the plane to Iran.”