the bigger they are the harder they fall

We have finished collecting all the used dinner trays and are cleaning up the cabin. Soon we will be able to turn down the lights and let the passengers sleep – well, more like, we can turn down the lights and give ourselves a break.

Both the young girl, who is a few pretzels short of a party pack, and the Polynesian man have consumed copious amounts of alcohol by now, and the drinks have started to show their effects on them. The Polynesian man has pressed his call-bell, and Damien walks up the aisle to investigate. I look from a distance, worried at how Damien is going to handle the big man; earlier, Geoff had instructed us not to give him or the young girl more alcohol. I am too far away to hear what is being said, but I can tell the Polynesian is upset. Damien leans in to turn off the call-light, when, in the blink of an eye, the Polynesian head-butts Damien. Poor Damien slumps to the ground.

‘Oh my God, he’s hit Damien!’ I cry.

I race toward Damien, who comes to his feet, staggering, holding his face. Blood is gushing from his nose.

‘Oh my God, oh my God!’

Several passengers begin venting their anger at the Polynesian man, and he is ready to fight them all. I grab Damien and get out of there as quickly as I can. I help Damien to the galley and one of the other flight attendants, Deb, who has also witnessed what has happened, sends an emergency call to all the crew stations. I attend to Damien’s injuries while Geoff comes down the back to fully assess the situation. Damien’s nose is badly broken, and there is a lot of blood. We are all trained in First Aid, so I sit Damien down in the galley and lean him forward, and then get him some towels to help stem the flow of blood. Damien is very distressed, silent from shock. We are all shocked.

Geoff makes an instant decision to have the Polynesian man arrested when we land. He also decides to have him restrained in the meantime. He phones the Captain to inform and confirm his decision, and then leaves the galley to return with flexi-cuffs. The decision to restrain the Polynesian man was an easy one to make. How we should go about executing it is not as easy.

The Polynesian man is almost as big as the whole crew combined. With Damien now out of the equation, there are only six of us available onboard – three girls and three guys, including Geoff – to help with the massive task of restraining him: Geoff is almost sixty and not in the greatest shape; Julian is a little gay guy who looks like he could be knocked down by a feather; all three of us girls are petite (and Jo is still in the front cabin). Rod is a burly straight man, and our only real hope. However, he’s not enough. We can’t risk injuring one of the pilots, so Geoff asks for volunteers to assist him and Rod. To my surprise, Julian agrees to help. I put up my hand as well.

‘You can count me in. I can kick like a mule.’

Deb volunteers as well, but Geoff stops her. ‘If there’s too many of us, we’ll only get in each other’s way.’

Geoff then turns to the three volunteers and says, ‘Thank you. This is not going to be easy. We need to act fast as he is already arguing with some of the other passengers.’

Geoff is an extremely wise man and a brilliant leader. I can’t help but think that he would have made an extraordinary military general had he chosen a different career path. As he prepares us for battle, he discusses tactics.

‘This guy is huge, so I suggest that we try and slip the cuffs on him while he’s in his seat. He won’t be able to move much then. If we come in from behind and don’t allow him to get up, we might be able to get the cuffs on him. That will be your job, Danielle. We hold him down, and then you slip in from behind him and slap on the cuffs. OK?’

I am shaking like a leaf.

‘OK.’

Geoff continues, ‘First things first, I will go out there and assess the situation. I will quietly try and move away the passengers seated behind him. Just in case, can you back me up, Rod? Danielle and Julian, you stay a few paces behind us. Deb, you stand by the phone, where you can see us as well as communicate with the flight deck and with Jo if things go wrong. OK, let’s do this.’

My whole body is trembling as I carry the cuffs behind my back and follow the boys down the aisle. Some of the passengers are still arguing with the Polynesian, and he raises his fists at a man sitting in front of him. The man being threatening is fearless, unwilling to backing down. He sees us walking down the aisle, and I can tell that he knows what is going on. Geoff makes eye-contact with the man, and they have a brief moment of understanding.

The Polynesian still has his fist raised in anger, but is seated.

Geoff quietly approaches the two passengers seated behind him and beckons for them to move out of the way, which they do. I am getting more nervous than a dog with a long tail in a room full of rocking chairs.

Geoff and Rod move into the vacated seats. On Geoff’s command we all jump on the Polynesian’s back, pushing him forward whilst Geoff and Rod grab an arm each. The passenger in front joins in and pulls the Polynesian’s head down. Other passengers join in as well, helping us restrain him.

We have made the big man very angry, and he doesn’t like it one bit. He thrashes about violently, even reaching for us, slapping away some of the limbs that have crept onto him as if they were bugs. However, we don’t give in to him. Little Julian has straddled the big man’s back and is riding him like a wild bronco. As the Polynesian is very drunk, out of shape and out of breath he soon weakens, and we are able to get his hands behind his back. It’s time for me to cuff him now.

I have used handcuffs in training several times, and they seemed easy to use in a classroom, but it is a totally different scenario trying to put them on an angry, thrashing brute in a confined space and surrounded by so many struggling limbs. Just as I thought I might never be able to get the cuffs on, the Polynesian must have realised the gravity of the situation and stops fighting.

Finally, one wrist and then the other. Snap. It’s done.

My adrenaline is flowing wild, if there were an area I could collapse into, I would.

Geoff remains calm, and as the limbs peel off the caged beast, he talks to the Polynesian and informs him that he will remain cuffed for the duration of the flight and the authorities will take him away when we land. The big man is angry, but it seems the seriousness of the situation is finally dawning on him.

Geoff consults with Rod, Julian and myself, and then decides to move the man to our crew-rest area. There are no bunks on this aircraft for the crew, just four standard passenger-seats with a curtain for some privacy. The Polynesian is abeyant, and with our assistance we help him to his feet and lead him to the crew rest.

There are certain legal responsibilities to be carried out in situations like this. Geoff is the ultimate professional as he liaises with passengers and crew, and helps them fill out the witness forms that we carry onboard. He is also very caring, and the crew’s wellbeing is at the top of his list.

I go back to the galley to console Damien. He is a little better, but still in shock. I barely have the chance to stop shaking when Ms. Curdle-face pokes her head through the galley curtains and starts shouting about how she has had her call-light on for ten minutes but no one has come to serve her yet. Damien stands up, with blood all over his face and his uniform. He looked like he wanted to spit some blood into the evil woman’s face.

Damien speaks for the first time since being hit, ‘Are your eyes freakin’ painted on?’

I take over, ‘Ma’am, you obviously haven’t had a chance to see most of the crew restraining and handcuffing a passenger. We will forgive your ignorance and insensitivity, and I will get you a drink now. What do you want?’

I think she knows that our level of tolerance for her is lower than a snake’s belly, so she takes her drink and leaves quickly.

‘You know that I can say anything I like to the passengers because I am concussed and in shock!’

Damien gives me a little wicked grin, and I’m assured that he is definitely OK. I grin back at him.