月巴先生終於吃完了那一大碗混集了所有味道的雪糕，對我們阿姐的「無間斷性」騷擾，也暫時告一段落。他回到有如為他度身訂造的「棺材房」休息 ─ 我們的商務容位不論價錢或大小都跟市面上的棺材房差不多呢，坐在裡面你可以隔絕周圍的騷擾，旁邊的乘客是完全影響不到你的。
在這行工作了這麼久，對乘客的奇聞早已見怪不怪，但今天竟因收拾了這個月巴先生檯面上一隻用過的杯，而被他投訴，真是嚥不下這口惡氣。所以我一直離他遠遠的，免得他出現在我的視線範圍，我怕忍不住對他怒目而視。突然間，我感到有人狠狠地從後推了我一下，害我差點把托盤上的東西打翻。在空中服務員的潛規則中，我們是唔「掂」得的。因為工作空間實在太狹小，不論被客人用手指篤、輕拍、甚至「鬆掙」，或其他身體碰撞，都是極之討厭的。我回轉頭，見到那個熟悉的肥胖背影徐徐走過，頸後鬆弛的肥肉一層疊一層，像是在對我列嘴而笑。我覺得就快爆了。
在還有個多小時便要到達日本機埸中，乘客呼喚燈一次又一次亮起，我反射性地立即走到該乘客位置，只怪我反應太快，原來這是那個月巴先生按的燈。厭惡的情緒從 體內湧出來，化成我額上豆大的汗珠。他歪著頭掃視了一下我的名牌，然後眼睛向上翻了一翻，臉帶不屑地把頭轉去另一邊「我要一個日本藉服務員。」
我忍不下去了。
我一邊咀咒，同時頭也不回地轉身，筆直地往廚房走去。我拉開收集垃圾的抽屜，翻出剛才那個他鍾愛的舊杯子，然後用力地放在他檯上，「很抱歉收走了你用完的空杯，現在把它送還給你，別擔心，是剛才那隻! 」
直到旅程結束，我們再沒有收到任何投訴。
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Mr Fatso 2
So the drama continued. You may refer to the previous chapter to see what happened before.
After finishing the huge bowl of ice cream, Mr Fatso eventually decided to go back to his seat, which looked a bit like a nicely decorated coffin – passengers could now have their complete privacy, surrounded by walls and wouldn’t be disturbed by the those sitting next to them at all.
Basically I couldn’t care less about him, after he complained about me collecting his empty glass. As long as I stayed away from his gaze, and let my Japanese colleagues handle him, I should be fine. Suddenly I felt quite a hard push on my back and I almost dropped the tray I was holding. If you ask any flight attendant, he or she will definitely tell you “being touched, patted, nudged, pushed or anything that involves physical contacts” is at the top of our “hate list”. I turned and saw the fatty already on his way to his seat. I was literally at the edge of insanity.
Hours later before we landed in Japan, the passenger call light flashed. I reflectively went to the cabin immediately. My heart sank into the deep ocean, sweat beading on my forehead, when I realised it was the fatty who pressed the call button. He looked at my nameplate and snorted, “Send a Japanese crew here, I don’t wanna talk to you.” I had encountered this kind of situation so many times – Japanese passengers stared at my nameplate, realised I was from Hong Kong, and then either tried to convince me that they were speaking English, or intentionally showed me that they were not fond of foreign base crew members.
In some way, some of them were really “a nightmare dressed in a daydream”. But this fatty was the worst nightmare from which I was trying to awake.
I turned, cursed, and went straight to the galley. I opened the cart containing the used glasses, got one of them and went straight back to the cabin.
“Thank you for complaining about me collecting your empty glass,” I placed the dirty glass hard against his table. I didn’t know where this courage came from. But I dared not even look at his face after that.
You know what? Magically he didn’t complain afterwards. And apparently I wasn’t the one who collected that glass in the end.