What happens in Reno stays in Reno
I AM LISTENING to a story a pilot is telling me. I had heard it before from flight attendants, but I didn’t quite believe it. I assumed the tale had been embellished with typical flight attendant flair for drama, part exaggeration, part urban legend. The captain assures me it is true as he was there, a hapless eyewitness to the escapade.
Mike, the captain, and his co-pilot were on a long 30-hour layover in Reno, Nevada. The co-pilot, a young single guy full of energy, excited to be in a new city, wanted to go to a strip club so Mike agreed. The two pilots watched the dancers, had a few beers, left after awhile. The co-pilot then suggested they go to another strip club, only the second one was particularly sleazy looking. Mike eyed the place, shrugged, but agreed to go inside.
They sat upfront, the co-pilot leaning on the bar at the edge of the stage. The dancer performed right in front of them, gyrating around the pole. She was wearing high-heeled platform shoes and not much else. As she raised her leg for a twirl around the pole, she unintentionally kicked the co-pilot right in the nose.
Blood gushed from his nose. The bouncer came up and said, “Hey! Your buddy’s bleeding all over the stage!” “I know,” said Mike. “Your dancer just kicked him in the nose!”
Mike took the co-pilot to the emergency room where they spent the next 5 hours. As they were leaving, the co-pilot gingerly touched his face. “I think I’m OK to fly tomorrow,” he said. Mike disagreed. “I heard your nose crack as it spread across your face!” he said, incredulously. “You’re not flying anything tomorrow.”
The co-pilot called out sick and a replacement pilot was flown to Reno. At the conclusion of the trip, Mike got a phone call from the chief pilot. “I heard your first officer called out sick,” said the chief pilot. “I just wanted to check with you and find out what happened. Was it food poisoning or something we should be aware of?”
“No,” said Mike. “It wasn’t food poisoning…”