I don’t want to overhype this story, but if you are trying to decide what to read for the next five minutes and are choosing between Huckleberry Finn, Harry Potter, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, or this tale of woe, do yourself a favor and burn those other books because they cannot live up to the story of what happened to me on my flight last night.
Since I was taking a red-eye from San Diego, my plan was to sleep as best I could for the majority of the flight. To that end, I was using my noise-reducing earphones, bought as one of Amazon’s Gold Box deals some time ago. The buds are rubber and cling tightly to the inside of the ear; they don’t block all sound, but when playing music, it’s hard to ear much else. Good enough, in other words, to help me get a few hours sleep on the plane.
So I thought.
Shortly after takeoff I reached to pull the earphones out of my ears, and the earbud
snapped off the cord and remained lodged in my ear. No problem, I thought, as I reached up to pull the rubber from my ear. It did not cooperate, and my fingers only pushed the thing further back into my ear. I tried desperately for a few minutes to grab a hold of any part of the bud, but could not. It was at this time that the panic swept over me. I don’t know what the guy sitting next to me thought, but he had to see me from the corner of his eye, scratching my ear frantically, blowing air with my nose pinched shut hoping to pop the thing out. This hadn’t been covered in the pre-flight video, so I wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps the flight attendants could help?
With my panic levels reaching record highs, I ignored the seatbelt sign and walked to the back of the plane. “Excuse me,” I said to the first of three female flight attendants,” this is going to sound weird, but do you have some tweezers? My earphones broke and the ear bud is stuck in my ear.”
I could try to describe their faces, but words would not do them justice. Suffice it to say, they too had not covered this in Flight Attendant School, Basic Ear Maladies 101. It was dark, but they took turns looking in my left ear and none could see anything. The bud is clear, I said, and anyway, it’s dark.
“Why did you stick it so far in there?” asked one. I didn’t really feel like this was the best time to discuss my music listening habits, but I spit something out about accidentally pushing it further while trying to get it out. Regardless of how, what were they going to do to help?
“It’s really deep,” said the first one, “I’m afraid to do anything. If something happens, I’d be liable.”
“Try this,” said the second. “Hold a cup of water over your ear and maybe the pressure will loosen.” Even at my heightened state of fear, I felt this was unlikely to work. “You may just have to see a doctor when we land.”
I may be in the ear-blocked minority, but when you’re 15 minutes into a 4-hour flight with something God never intended to be stuck in your ear stuck in your ear, the last thing you want to hear is that you should wait a few hours. I don’t know my exact reaction, but the terror that had been slowly growing since this started must have reached its facial pinnacle (that’s a thing), because suddenly, one of them remembered that she did, in fact, have tweezers*, and she handed them to me. “You’ll have to do it yourself because we would be liable if anything happened,” she said.
*Look, I know lending a stranger your pair of tweezers for ear-spelunking is not appealing, but this was a life or death situation.**
** Not being a doctor, I can only assume that one could die from Earbudinfesticitis.
She made me stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom so I could watch myself, I guess. If they couldn’t see the thing standing with their eye pressed to my ear, I’m not sure what hope they thought I stood of seeing inside my own ear, but, desperate as I was, there I stood, watching myself scratch inside aimlessly. Eventually one of them said, “Should we see if a doctor is on board.”
“YES,” I shouted enthusiastically.
I’ve never been on a plane when there was an announcement for a doctor’s help, but I’ve seen this done in movies. I don’t remember this being the scenario requiring help. Luckily, three people rang their call buttons, and a flight attendant left and returned with a middle-aged doctor. She handed him her tiny keychain flashlight and the tweezers, and he got to work. We stood in the bathroom, my head tilted and resting on the wall and he dug in. The sensation of a man trying to grasp a rubber doorjam in your ear is one I hope I never revisit, but I knew after a few tries that he WAS actually getting the base of it in between the tweezers, even if every time he tried to pinch and pull he lost the grip. We did this a few times, and it ever so slowly and with each grasp, began to slide down my ear. Eventually, on one grab, I moved my head back as he pulled and it came out.
He held it up and we all looked at it – it was like the doctor removing a bullet from a patient shot in a Clint Eastwood western, only, you know, stupider.
I was overcome with gratitude, and thanked him profusely, shaking his hand vigorously. I thanked the flight attendants, one of whom said she could not wait to update her Facebook status, returned to my seat and rode the rest of the flight without music.
My ear hurts a bit today because apparently jamming something deep into your ear canal then scraping at it with large metal instruments is not ideal ear treatment. But at least I’m not at the emergency room.
“It was a one-in-a-million shot, doc.”