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It Takes a Big Man
James Wysong · August 31, 2004

The next mechanical delay you experience could be the pilot, not the plane.

On a recent flight to Cancun, I learned that sobering truth firsthand. Towards the end of boarding process, a rather obese passenger greeted us with a big hearty hello. I returned the greeting, but was already wondering how many seatbelt extensions we were going to need. The jolly man made a move towards the cockpit.

"Excuse me, sir," I said. "Wrong way. That's where the drivers sit."

He took off his raincoat and to my surprise revealed his pilot uniform. "I am your main driver tonight. Are you ready for some sunning and margaritas by the pool in Cancun?"

Somewhat shocked, I apologized and made friendly. He grabbed a cup of coffee and wedged himself through the cockpit door. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that he had to squeeze through the door.

We were on our way to Cancun with one short stop in Mexico City. A 35-hour layover at a palatial resort made this trip a lucky break for me, considering I was fairly junior. Our captain could only fly on this airplane because it had the yoke on the side and nothing obstructing his large stomach.

Later in the flight, I walked into the cockpit to find the captain on oxygen and the first officer with a worried expression.

"Oh my gosh, what's the problem?" I asked, thinking we had a crisis on hand.

The captain took off the mask. "Nothing. I am just a big guy and I need some extra oxygen once in a while. Do me a favor, reach into my bag and pull out the sack labeled 'Atkins'."

It was a bag containing six individual steaks. He asked me to cook one every 45 minutes for the duration of our trip. He went on to tell about the special protein diet he was on. I tuned out while trying to think of how I was going to cook the passenger meals and his steaks simultaneously.

Diet? What the hell kind of diet was that? Sounded like the "I'm-going-to-be-backed-up-for-months" diet.

We landed in Mexico City, and the captain was the first one off the plane. He chain-smoked three cigarettes on the jet way as passengers disembarked.

He looked at his watch and said, "I am going to go to the Duty-Free Shop and get some goodies for the layover. Do you want anything?"

I shook my head and thanked him anyway. He returned with a bottle of Scotch, a carton of cigarettes, and a box of Mexican chocolates. He smoked a couple cigarettes as the new passengers boarded, and then we were off.

Three steaks and two oxygen breaks later, we landed in Cancun. It was 1 a.m., so nobody accepted the captain's nightcap invitation, but we all met up by the pool the next morning. The captain had his ice cooler and was mixing up margaritas for everyone. We all returned from the layover with wonderful memories.

I have nothing against this man and consider his company extremely pleasant, but he is a heart attack waiting to happen.

His bottle of Scotch was empty by the end of the layover, along with four packs of cigarettes. I find it hard to believe that while flight attendants are scrutinized for their weight, this guy is legal to fly. He needs oxygen in-flight, is 200 pounds overweight, chain-smokes, and drinks heavily. His heart is most assuredly screaming for help, as are the new first officers who have to fly a difficult approach into Cancun at night with a captain who might not make it.

Why doesn't anybody speak up?

Is everyone afraid of making waves or ruffling the feathers of this pilot? Does the fact that he has 35 years with the company and knows many people in high places make everyone turn a blind eye?

People's lives are at stake and indiscretions like these should be eliminated.

Two years later I flew with the "big guy," only he was two hundred pounds lighter, a non-smoker and had gone one year without alcohol. He was physically half the man he used to be.

I was astonished and had many questions. He told me that he was rushed to the emergency room on a layover. The doctor told him that his weight was breaking his back, and that he would not live two more years unless he dramatically changed his lifestyle. Modern technology and proper diets had transformed him into a new man. But something was missing.

"So now that you have turned your life around are you a happier person?" I asked anticipating the answer.

"No, not really, sure it's easier to get around, nobody stares at me, and I can make it up a flight of stairs without losing my breath. But as far as day-to-day life, I don't have anything to look forward to anymore. It's like growing up; nobody likes it when you get there."

The rest of the three day trip he was grumpy, never smiled, and didn't go out with the crew once. I respected what he had gone through and felt much safer flying with him, but was sure there had to be a diet out there where one didn't lose their personality along with all the weight.

James Wysong has worked as a flight attendant with two major international carriers during the past fifteen years. He is the author of the "The Plane Truth: Shift Happens at 35,000 Feet" and "The Air Traveler's Survival Guide." For more information about Frank or his books, see his Web site or e-mail him.