Flying through the Midwest in the summer means one thing: turbulence.

I was working as a flight attendant on one particular flight when we hit a patch of very rough air just after a young teen on his first flight had entered the bathroom. After the bumps had subsided, he exited the bathroom, a look of sheer terror etched on his face.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "Don't worry, that turbulence was as bad as it gets."

"So that's what it was," he said. "I thought I'd pushed the wrong button."

Received from DaMouseTracks.

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