While the copilot and I began the process of preparing our 757 for a trip from JFK to Montego Bay, Jamaica, my stomach prepared itself for an attack. I was beginning to feel a mild churning sensation. The frou-frou coffee I had ordered at the airport from a franchise chain that will remain anonymous was not agreeing with my system. Quite frankly, its coffee has never agreed with my system. Despite the event that I am about to describe, I have been brave enough (or foolish enough) to try its product again — minus the flying part. Although not as severe, the results have produced similar effects.
After departing the gate, I had considered a brief stop on the taxiway. But I chose to tough it out. The majority of my stomach malfunctions had always dissipated over time. Besides, how would it appear to passengers for the captain to make a mad dash from the cockpit into the lavatory? Answer: better than it appeared later.
