When Shit Hits the Fan, Do You Quit or Laugh?

Mayhem is an inevitable part of life. The real question is: How will you handle it?

[Drawing of fuel truck bumping plane with driver going “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”] [Drawing of plane, “30 minutes later”, with giant balloon over windows with every passenger going “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”]

(Photo: Brendan Leonard)

Updated April 11, 2024 09:26AM

About 15 seconds after I buckled my seat belt, the pilot announced, not enthusiastically: “I’m not sure if they told you, but a fuel truck backed into the plane after refueling, and although there was no visible damage, we need to have a maintenance inspection, so we’ll probably be delayed at least 45 minutes. We’ll probably need everyone to deplane.” — (All illustrations: Brendan Leonard)

The delay meant I’d miss my next flight, and the next. I’d had a stubborn cold and felt like shit the past six days, was pretty sure I had pinkeye, and had woken up at 4 a.m. for this flight. I was not having a great week, but whoever had been driving that fuel truck was fixing to have a really bad week. [Drawing of fuel truck bumping plane with driver going “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”] [Drawing of plane, “30 minutes later”, with giant balloon over windows with every passenger going “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”]

Then we all got a text that the delay would be about an hour. [screenshot of United Airlines text message]

Then two hours. [screenshot of United Airlines text message] And then three hours, [screenshot of United Airlines text message]

Then four hours, [screenshot of United Airlines text message] Then four and a half, [screenshot of United Airlines text message] And then five hours. [screenshot of United Airlines text message]

Then six hours, [screenshot of United Airlines text message] Then eight hours, [screenshot of United Airlines text message] And then ten hours. [screenshot of United Airlines text message]

And then finally, [screenshot of United Airlines text message] We boarded, and the plane took off, just shy of twelve hours later. When we were lining up to board, someone mentioned how relaxed the whole group had been. No one had screamed at anyone, no one complained loudly, no one seemed to be seething with rage. I could still hear jokes and laughter, 12 hours after our planned departure.

I suppose you have a few options in situations like these, when all your plans slowly disintegrate before your eyes due to something you’re powerless to control and/or fix: Drawing of wheel with choices: Get mad, Get sad, Get mad and sad, Laugh, Give up, Start thinking of ways it could have been worse

Obviously there are many things to get angry about nowadays. And anger is normal, even healthy in sometimes, I think most therapists would say. Our situation seemed ripe for someone throwing a fit, maybe someone else filming them with a phone, uploading it somewhere it could go viral, so we could all say look at this person losing their shit/ acting completely inappropriately/ representing all our frustrations, but nothing happened. Maybe everybody thought, is this worth it? And instead we just laughed.

“Fishing is heroic and romantical for about an hour. By the end of your first day you were never so sore and tired before in your whole life, and your hands are all bloody, too. Then you add up your profit and you realize you lost fecking money on the day. Right then you either quit or laugh. What else can you do? There was an old guy in Newport I remember that was the name of his boat, the Quit 'r Laugh. He drowned, of course. Went down laughing I bet. A huge storm got him out by Rogue Canyon. He must have laughed when he knew it was the end. What other end is there for a fisherman? What else can you do? It's quit or laugh. No truer words ever spoken. Or painted on a boat at the bottom of the sea.” —Brian Doyle, Mink River

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