Chapter 142 Mi Airlines 1 Overbooking
"Now you're going back to your sweet home, how's it going, are you happy?" The agent from Forpollner jokes with you while you're queuing to board the plane.
You completely ignored them. The one who spoke—Ambrose, a typical cheerful American with dyed blonde hair—saw that you had gotten no response, so he touched his nose and stopped talking.
There are two people who are like leeches, constantly watching you in secret. You suspect that even if you are alone at home, you have to make sure that your identity as an "outsider" is not exposed.
It's so annoying!
You sigh as you think about these things, then follow the flow of people to board the plane, put away your luggage, and sit down in your seat.
The air conditioner was blowing cold air at full blast, raising goosebumps on your arms. You were still holding the hot water you'd collected at the boarding gate, and you swallowed a mouthful. You've lost some weight.
Your head rests against the cold porthole, your gaze unfocused as you watch the robotic arm move back and forth on the tarmac. You're lost in thought.
The plane, which arrived on time, still hadn't taken off after the scheduled departure time. You glanced at your phone; the time was correct.
If you look out onto the tarmac, you'll see several ground crew members wearing fluorescent vests circling around the plane.
A sense of foreboding washed over me. This voyage was likely to turn into another unsettling one.
Sure enough, soon the announcement came on, and the United Airlines flight attendant's tone was as casual as ever, with a Black accent reading aloud in a strong voice:
"Dear passengers, this is the announcement for United Airlines flight UA0000. Due to an overcrowding issue, we are currently seeking assistance from several volunteers to reschedule your flight. We will provide you with 400 USD in electronic travel compensation and arrange for you to take the next available flight."
Is this what they call overbooking of airline tickets?
You curiously scanned the cabin.
You remember that the economy class ticket for this plane to Los Angeles was only $300, but no one moved.
Clearly, no one wanted to cause trouble for their trip for such a small benefit. Most travelers pretended not to hear and continued to look down at their phones, read books, or close their eyes to rest.
This is, in fact, the normal procedure. United Airlines seems to really enjoy overbooking; all they need to do is offer compensation, wait, and then add more.
A few seconds later, the announcement came on again: "To express our gratitude, we will increase the compensation to 800 yuan and provide volunteers with free access to the airport VIP lounge and accommodation for that night."
There was a slight commotion in the cabin. Finally, a middle-aged woman in a gray hoodie stood up, followed by her male companion. The flight attendant quickly approached them, smiling as she guided them away.
With someone taking the lead, another young girl quickly picked up her backpack and disembarked from the plane, traveling light.
Everything seemed calm, but your premonition that "this is bound to escalate" grew stronger and stronger.
The flight attendant said there were two seats that needed to be vacated.
Next, the flight attendants continued to increase their efforts.
"We are increasing the compensation amount to 1,000 yuan per meter. This is your last chance to make the choice voluntarily. Please note that if you do not voluntarily cooperate before the next round, you will no longer be eligible for this compensation mechanism."
They were using a standard accent, but were they threatening them?
You realize you haven't fastened your seatbelt yet, and with a click, you quickly fasten yourself to your seat.
Not only you feel that the flight attendants' attitude has become subtle, but other ordinary "locals" are also asking with dissatisfaction: "Why are there so many more people? If you ask me, you shouldn't have set the quota like this in the first place."
No one answered. The flight attendants walked past each row without a smile or a word.
It looks like they're taking a headcount.
During the standoff, a woman wearing a blue hoodie who looked like a backpacker stood up and said to the flight attendants, cursing, "You better make sure the compensation arrives quickly, and if I don't get a good night's sleep tonight, you can expect to file a complaint!"
"Madam, please come this way," the flight attendant said nonchalantly.
One person is needed.
The air in the cabin began to feel tense. Perhaps it was some kind of interconnected anxiety, but it made you feel as if even the low-frequency vibrations of the engine had been temporarily turned down.
When you realize the cabin has become extremely quiet, you are surprised to find that the background music that was playing just moments ago has quietly stopped.
Your ears feel like they're being pressed into a cotton ball, and every sound becomes slow and distant.
The announcement came on again, and the flight attendant in charge of broadcasting let out a long, impatient sigh.
When she spoke again, her tone had clearly changed.
"There is only one spot left that has not yet been allocated. We ask passengers to cooperate with our work to avoid further system intervention."
She emphasized the word "system" in her words. You could sense a threat in her voice.
Two flight attendants once again began walking along the aisle from the front and back of the cabin. Their steps were synchronized, their eyes scanning each face quickly like a scanner.
They put on a completely serious face, and when they looked at the passengers, there was no longer even a perfunctory smile in their eyes. Instead, they had an indescribable coldness, as if all their ferocity was hidden beneath a mask, even though they were expressionless.
One of the flight attendants glanced at you as if you were looking at someone else, but for some reason, you felt a chill creep up the back of your neck.
You wouldn't be their target, would you?
Reflecting on your state today—having just left the mental hospital, you are naturally exhausted, pale, and even somewhat disheveled.
Being dragged along by Foboler, I only ate one sandwich they bought. The smelly, sour, cold cheese was so unappetizing that I barely managed a couple of bites before putting it aside.
Honestly, after looking at the front-facing camera footage, you do look like a traveler in "bad shape".
You are from a country with flowers, which means that in their stereotypes, you may have language barriers, social difficulties, and most importantly, be obedient and compliant—making you very easy to be selected.
But you are not alone.
Two Fuboles sit beside you. Although they don't talk much, they always cast a kind of "lockdown zone" feeling around you.
With them around, you're practically a "permanent" employee. Even if they come after you, you should have an excuse to get rid of them.
Just as you imagined, you caught a glimpse of a flight attendant at the front of the cabin suddenly turning back. Her steps were steady, her gaze straight ahead, as if she had locked onto a target.
Sure enough, she walked straight to your row, and only when she was right in front of you did she turn her head, bend down, and smile without smiling.
"Miss, could you please cooperate?"
You look up at her. She doesn't say you've been chosen, nor does she explain why; she just ambiguously waits for you to "come of your own accord."
Instead of reacting immediately, you scanned the name tag on her chest and glanced at the electronic board in her hand. The interface already displayed a red warning box indicating your seat number.
She didn't say your name, but her "please" gesture made it seem as if you had already agreed.
You didn't move, but Anbo, who was sitting to your right, did.
She has a lively personality and an enthusiasm that seems out of place for her profession. If you ignore her, her colleagues will fall asleep as soon as they sit down, making her feel very uncomfortable and restless.
Until this moment, as if she had been waiting for this for a long time—you could even hear her breathing quicken with excitement—she slowly reached inside her suit jacket, pulled out a black leather ID holder, snapped it open, and held it in front of her.
With a stern face and a low voice, she said in a businesslike manner, "This passenger is subject to federal witness protection procedures. Please step back immediately and permanently remove her from any of your lists, no matter what they are."
Despite appearing to be a complete fool, Anbo was speaking in an authoritative, law-abiding tone, more like issuing an order than negotiating.
This changed your opinion of her quite a bit. You then took the opportunity to act arrogantly, stretching your arms and looking at the flight attendant with your head held high.
The flight attendant froze for a moment, her throat bobbing as she tried to speak again, but the woman who had been watching her, Elaine, also looked up, took off her sunglasses, and coldly added, "Or do you want to explain to your supervisor why you tried to interfere with federal procedures?"
The flight attendant looked down, glanced at the ID one last time, then at you, and said reluctantly, "I'm very sorry, I'll take care of it right away. Please continue your journey with peace of mind."
She turned around quickly, as if what had just happened had never occurred.
"You're really amazing," you whispered to Anbo in admiration.
"Hmph." Anbo shook his head smugly. "Miss, if you cooperate with our work, we will of course protect you well."
Anbo eagerly awaited your continued conversation with her, while you kept your eyes fixed on the flight attendants.
You feel that there will definitely be more unexpected accidents in the future, and you must carefully learn from any existing incidents to find ways to deal with flight attendants.
They stopped a few rows away and leaned down to whisper to a passenger who was dozing. The man had his headphones on and was completely unaware that he was about to become their next target.
"Madam, wake up. We need to adjust the seating arrangement. Since no one is responding, the system will handle passenger allocation. You have been selected. Please cooperate with us to complete the handover procedure."
The word "handover" sounds almost a done deal.
A uniformed security officer quietly appeared. She walked through the overhead hatch and out from the pilot's passageway; you could glimpse her wearing disposable blue gloves, with a drawstring and a spare mask hanging from her belt.
Your heart races, and you can't help but feel worried for her: if it weren't for your "special status," you would be treated the same way, right?
However, the girl who was woken up only looked blankly at the flight attendant and then at the security officer before quickly realizing her situation.
So she—
She blinked casually, then immediately pulled out her phone, opened social media, and uploaded a selfie: she smiled and held up a booklet with the airline logo, inadvertently including the flight attendant in the photo—the latter flashing her brightest, eight-toothed smile the moment she entered the country.
Add the caption: "Even delays are a kind of adventure, right? #UAJourney #StayOptimistic"
Upload successful.
The flight attendants and security personnel looked at each other in bewilderment.
She shook hands with them directly and said, "Thank you for your service. I hope the flight goes smoothly."
That's how we got through this hurdle.
You look at your phone's lock screen, which displays the 12 universal rules of the US, with rule number 12 stating: Social media is the most important place to showcase yourself in modern times, and you know how to maintain a positive social media image.
I see!
Just in case, you decided to make the most of Forpoll's strengths.
You pat Anbo on the shoulder and invite her to take a picture together. Your phone has a row of weird filter cameras exclusive to Chinese people, which makes Anbo very happy.
You two took a dozen or twenty photos, and you even enthusiastically invited Anbo to add funny special effects to her sleeping colleague.
Soon, you uploaded these pictures to your own social media.
Caption: "Surprise! The sense of security provided by Amber! Have a great trip! @amberBLACK99 #LuckyDayToday #PositiveEnergyPassenger #UnitedAirlines"
Upload successful.
Soon after, Anbo, with whom you had just followed each other on social media, also forwarded your message.
Anbo is a social media influencer, and a large number of people have flooded your account, giving you a lot of likes.
Now you feel much more at ease. As the general rules state, you've become much more open-minded, and even the air in the crew room seems to smell sweeter.
However, the atmosphere was much more subdued on the flight attendants' side.
They haven't resolved this issue yet; two consecutive failures have made them want to grab someone at random and throw them out.
The crew did indeed do that.
Like several wild beasts whose prey had been stolen, they began to actively search for alternative targets, filled with resentment and anger.
They stopped in the middle row of economy class.
You are positioned slightly to the back, but you can clearly see two flight attendants and a security officer standing in front of a short, Southeast-looking man.
"Sir, you have been selected by the system. Please cooperate with us immediately to complete the handover." The flight attendant's tone left no room for negotiation.
"What handover? Why me? I bought a ticket, I wasn't late, and I have connecting tickets!" The boy's voice rose, and he began to nervously shrink back from his seat.
The safety officer ignored him and immediately grabbed him.
He started shouting, "I'm going to post this on social media! You just wait and see! I have the right to do it!"
He tried to stand up, but a flight attendant pressed down on his shoulder: "Please don't overreact. This is just 'normal procedure'."
The phrase "normal procedure" struck a nerve in the crowd like a blunt nail. You noticed that the passengers around you lowered their heads, some silently turning on their cameras, only to quickly turn them off again.
The boy froze for a moment, then gasped for breath, "I'll expose you! You dare do this? I... I'll livestream... I, I—"
However, the more he talked, the more you could hear his heavy accent, which didn't sound like that of an American or someone who had lived in the United States for a long time.
The flight attendant suddenly bent down, leaned close to his ear, and said in an almost snickering tone, "Welcome to the United States."
That moment was like a mechanism being triggered.
Another burly security officer appeared from the stern of the cabin.
Not only that, there were even a few people who, although dressed in civilian clothes, still acted aggressively like air force security personnel.
They didn't say a word, but quickly walked up to the boy, nodded to the flight attendant, then turned their faces and showed an extremely strange smile—a forced smile, but their eyes didn't move at all.
"You can't touch me!" the boy shouted, but he was too small and thin. Before he could react, the safety officer had already spread his arms and suddenly closed them like capturing prey, trapping him against his chest with swift movements, just like performing a material handling procedure.
A huge black backpack was pulled open behind the security guard. It had been there sometime during her time there, and no one had seen when she took it out.
The backpack resembled a black cloth bag; the zipper slowly opened, and a nauseating, hollow odor wafted out.
You see her forcibly fold the boy's body into three parts—head, waist, and legs—and stuff his entire body into the bag unnaturally, like origami.
The boy screamed, then his voice suddenly stopped, as if he had been muted.
His legs struggled in the last moment, but the backpack had already been zipped up securely. There was no blood, no violent thud, only a human-shaped bulge in the bag, quietly carried away.
The flight attendant smoothed her clothes, tidied her hair, and then addressed everyone in a soft and relaxed voice:
"Whew~ Now, please fasten your seatbelts, we are about to take off. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation."
No one made a sound.
Anbo pats you on the shoulder to comfort you. You also hear a passenger sobbing in the seat behind you.
However, their fear and emotional response had nothing to do with the horrific scene. You were already used to the fact that the people here sometimes acted like real, normal people, and at other times treated obviously bizarre and supernatural events as normal occurrences.
You felt a chill for a moment, but when you faced Anbo again, you reverted to your indifferent attitude. She found it a bit puzzling, but she didn't say much, only muttering, "Strange people from the Flower Country."
Looking out the window again, you see a row of people in different airline uniforms standing at the other end of the runway, each carrying a black bag, quietly watching the plane.
The engine noise suddenly increased, and the people glided away from your sight. A feeling of weightlessness came over you, and your ears throbbed with discomfort.
After about ten minutes, the voyage became smooth.
A delicious aroma of food wafted over.
Lunch?
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Author's Note: Anyone who's flown with United Airlines knows what I mean. I've seen the worst service from flight attendants ever (though that's in comparison to the always gentle, smiling (and gender-neutral) flight crews of other airlines). Honestly, their attitude is more like they treat themselves and passengers as equals ready to fight at any moment.
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