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and comes to the front of the queue. When the toilet door unfolds fully open, an ashen-faced passenger emerges, shaking her head to indicate just how bad the state of the toilet is. As she leaves I can see the inside of the toilet. Again, words cannot adequately describe the revulsion I feel. Just as I am about to suck it up and enter, the B.O. man almost pushes me out of the way to get into the toilet. Although I have one foot inside the toilet, I take a step backwards, hold the door open, and with a wry smile I allow the man to pass.
    â€˜There you go sir – it’s all yours.’
    Maybe there is such a thing as karma after all.
    As I wait outside the toilet, my smile is suddenly wiped off my face when I realise that I have to go in next. What was I thinking? Karma clearly has somewhere more important to be.
    When he finally exits the toilet I turn to make eye contact with several of the passengers. They can see the look of sheer terror on my face, and I can tell that no one wants to be in my shoes – not now, not ever.
    I take a big breath, and under that breath I mutter, ‘Oh my god, I’m going in. If I don’t make it out alive, please donate my body to medical research.’
    Earlier I had noticed an elderly couple sitting in the seats directly in front of the B.O. man. The lady had been sick, of course, and had managed to contain the contents in her sick bag. I had taken away that sick bag and given her another one, for which she was very appreciative. She still has a ghostly pale complexion, but she is too polite to say anything. Her husband is comforting her, but he has not complained nor drawn attention to the situation.
    I know there is nowhere else to seat them, but the small and busy gallery. I ask that the couple to leave their seats and come along to the galley.
    As they enter, I tell them, ‘I thought you might want some fresh air, well, you know…’
    They know exactly what I mean and are happy I did this for them.
    The elderly couple is delightful. I talk to them intermittently between call-bells, serving drinks, cleaning toilets yet again and checking on those passengers who have been sick. The turbulence has subsided, and I take every opportunity I can get to return to the galley and chat with them. The husband and wife don’t have much travel experience. They are going to Japan to visit their granddaughter, who is in Tokyo on an exchange student program. But that’s not the only reason they are flying abroad: they have their fiftieth wedding anniversary coming up in a few days, and this trip is their present to each other. Although they got a more tempestuous overseas excursion than they had bargained for, they have not complained once. They know that these circumstances are out of their control. They also know that the crew members have been working above and beyond the call-of-duty to make things better for the passengers.
    As crew we sometimes begin to look at passengers as a whole, as a crowd rather than individuals. It is instances like this that remind us that everyone has a story to tell. Even the B.O. man probably has a very good reason to fly. I try to find empathy for the man, but fail to do so. It was his lack of hygiene and subsequent lack of thought for others that has triggered all this pain – the brunt of which, the crew and passengers have had to suffer. Well, no matter how good his reason is, he shouldn’t be flying.
    All airlines have what is called a ‘condition of carriage’ or ‘condition of ticket’ or ‘contract’. Simply put, there are rules of flying that every passenger has to adhere to. It is usually given in fine print on the ticket or receipt of ticket, and covers things like what can and cannot be taken on the aircraft, the permitted baggage size and weight restrictions, the legal indemnities and wavers, the behavioural guidelines and acceptable dress regulations. There is nothing given there about