A timely post last week on the foodie blog Eater about carrying food and drink on airplanes reminded me of a big mess I was part of in the early 90s.
My wife had bought a can of sorghum syrup at a charity event for my dad who loved the stuff. I planned to carry it on my Southwest flight to Birmingham. A security guy at Lambert insisted on opening the can even though it was clearly labeled. After seeing what it was, he put the lid back on and tapped it shut. I carried it onto the plane and placed it under my seat.
A few minutes before landing in B'ham, I noticed that I could not move my feet. Because the can had tipped over and the syrup had leaked all over the floor and my sneakers were stuck in the sticky glop. It had even spilled out into the aisle.
The SWA attendants were cool and told me not to get upset, that they had seen worse. One of them mentioned a passenger who had once brought some spaghetti sauce on board and placed it in its container in the overhead bin. That problem was discovered when the red sauce began dripping down onto a passenger's head.
I finally managed to get my shoes unstuck and took them off before deplaning. My dad was puzzled when he saw me step out of the jetway—this was back when you could walk out on the concourse to greet arriving passengers—carrying my shoes. When we got to the house, I finally got all the goo off my shoes and resolved never again to bring sticky stuff on an airplane.
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