The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 102 : I’ve Been Flying For Almost Thirty Hours…and The Flight Attendants Won’t Stop Crying

Episode Date: November 17, 2025

Lot 102: I’ve Been Flying For Almost Thirty Hours…and The Flight Attendants Won’t Stop CryingTrigger warning: This lot features a brief, non-graphic mention of suicide.Consigned by: James Worchester Starring Trevor ShandApril ConsaloRomy EvansJessica McEvoyLauren Shand https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/dlk100/ive_been_flying_for_almost_thirty_hours_and_the/ Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique Dealer Theme music by The Newton Brothers Additional music byCO.AG ([e-mail]) Clement Panchout Vivek Abhishek SUBSCRIBE to them on YOUTUBE: / vivekhsihba  LIKE them on FACEBOOK:  https://rb.gy/nhgn0iFollow them on Spotify/ iTunes/ Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/rxdcjqt Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This lot features a brief non-graphic mention of suicide. Customer discretion is advised. G equals W. Come on in, traveler. Fasten your seatbelt. And welcome to Lot 102. Now, I know we all like a bit of turbulence. But this one spent more than 30 hours on a flight path to...

Well, you'll just have to stick around to find out. These headphones arrived inside a standard airline amenity bag. Attached is a small card that reads, In-Flight Entertainment. Estimated arrival, 403 a.m. The time is crossed out. Written underneath in shaky blue ink is, We'll be landing in an hour.

Repeat it again and again. until the ink gouges through the paper. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Max Tortorello Allen,

Mr. Mr. Loganimations, Dan Black, Jessica Rochelle, Jeff, Caroline Gaston, and Julia Moth. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to The Order. Go to The Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now back to the headphones. They work just fine, you know. Here, take a listen. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. Hours.

Temptants won't. Thirty hours ago. I hopped on a late-night flight from New York heading to Los Angeles. After boarding, I saw that I had an entire road to myself. You know, as you watch the passenger, is coming in and you just hope no one's going to sit beside you. While I won that lottery, passed without incident. And soon, I was stretched out for a nap across the entire row.

I slept for a few hours. I don't know how long, but I woke up to some severe turbulence. It's possible that the lights in the cabin went out for a moment, but I was so disoriented that it's hard to say. I checked my phone to see that it was 403 a.m., which I figured gave me about an hour until we landed. When I looked out my window, I was shocked to see nothing but wide open ocean. My jaw dropped.

There's obviously no ocean between New York and Los Angeles. I hit the button to call the flight attendant and spent the next few minutes racking my brain for a lake that could have been possibly big enough to explain what I was seeing. I jumped when the attendant flipped off the light. She was grinning from ear to ear. and tears were pouring down her cheeks. How can I help you, sir? I froze for a moment at her reaction before deciding to just ask my question.

Um, where are we? Why does it look like we're flying over an ocean? She wiped her cheeks to clear the tears, still grinning wildly. Sir, we'll be landing in about an hour. After she left, I checked the clock on my phone again. 4.03 a.m. blinked back at me.

It hadn't changed. I had to have been waiting with my call light on for at least five minutes. How was it possible that it hadn't changed at all? I opened my laptop and saw it too displayed 4.03 a.m. I pulled out my phone. Started a stopwatching the app and spent the next two hours looking back and forth between the clocks, waiting for them to change. I tapped the shoulder of an older woman sitting in the row ahead of me.

She looked back and annoyed expression across her face. Yes. Do you know how long until we land? The flight attendant said it would be another hour. That flight attendant, we talked almost two hours ago. We should have landed already. She stared at me as if I was crazy. I was going to continue trying to convince her, but I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I spun to see a male flight attendant grinning down. down at me, tears pinging off his cheeks onto my shoulder. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down, or I'll be calling the captain. I told him that wouldn't be necessary and sat back. He removed his hand and stepped away. The flight attendants continued to stop by every few hours offering meals. My stopwatch continued to tick up and is now telling me that I've been. been on this plane for more than 30 hours.

I've explored all of coach and tried talking to some of the other passengers, but they've all told me that they're expecting to land in an hour or so. Around three hours ago, I tried getting into first class. I made it past the curtain, but was escorted back by two grinning flight attendants. Their grip on my arms were like iron. Sir, the seatbelt sign is on. Please remain in your seat with your buckle fastened. We'll be landing in about an hour.

I'd just about given up hope. When a woman came down the aisle dressed in a business suit, didn't look at me or slow down. But she dropped a piece of paper onto my tray, as she made her way to the bathrooms at the back of the plane. I shot a look around before unrolling it. It said. Are you stuck too?

I pulled out a pen and wrote, Yes, 30 hours. I folded the double the table. the scrap of paper and set it up on the tray closest to the aisle. She left the bathroom and picked it up as she passed. It's been 20 minutes since then. I don't know why, but I don't think the flight attendants would like it if they knew we were talking. It doesn't matter.

I have to do something. I'll up to you with whatever happens next. A few hours after the businesswoman picked up her piece of paper with my message. She came back down the aisle and sat in the seat beside me. She bent over, trying to stay low. So you're stuck too. My name's Jack, by the way. I'd say nice to meet you, but...

I'm Mary. You're wrong. Getting your message was by far the best thing about the past day. I've spent the last day and a half thinking I was alone in this. So, Jack, you have any theories on what the hell's going on? I considered lying, but deciding the truth was for the best. Maybe if it were just me or just you. If this was some cosmic train to hell, why would there be two of us who realize what's going on?

Mary pulled out her phone and handed it to me. It displayed the Wikipedia article for Flight MH370, the airline that disappeared in 2014. I read through the article carefully. There were dozens of theories trying to explain what happened. They ranged from hypoxia to suicide to aliens. This doesn't tell us much. Not much, other than that this may have happened before.

What about you? any theories as to why anyone else can't see what's going on. We talked it over and realized one thing we had in common was that we were both fast asleep at 4.03 a.m. There's no way we were the only ones asleep at that time. Maybe everyone else was just napping. I don't know about you, but I was well and truly fucking asleep. The cabin lights flicked off and a dozen red emergency lights in the floor flicked on, casting the cabin in a red glow. The intercom crackled to life, saying,

Turn to your seat. Time is on, and we may experience in about an hour. Should I go back? Maybe they won't notice if you're gone, but maybe they already know when they're just trying to separate us. We should stay together. That's a better idea. Ladies, I'll be given the opportunity to speak with him.

Please remain in your seats until he calls you. If you need assistance, don't worry. A flight attendant will happily help you on your way. We'll take a brief moment to let you decide whether you'd like to continue with the account connected to these. Persistent little relics. I warn you, it moves in circles. The way some corridors do when you're very tired. Leave a message, please do so with the tone and have a good.

Great day. Hey, Trevor. How's it going, man? Picked up something small this time, like real small. It's a brass lapel pin shaped like an ear. Name tag size, maybe smaller. What's handmade? Old polish, but new scratches.

I found it in a box of a state junk and an auction out near the lake. Here's the weird part. Things warm. Not like sun warm, but body. temperature warm. I figured it'd cool off once I left it in the truck overnight. Guess what? It didn't. Oh, and, uh, when you wear it, it talks. Not loud, but more like a whisper that slides in right between your thoughts. It starts nice enough. Compliments. You look good today. That was a smart thing to say. Stuff that makes you feel warm and fuzzy. But give it a day or two, and the tone

changes. The compliments turn into directions. You should apologize. Go back and lock the door. He's lying to you. Always calm. Always right in your own voice, too. I took it off and tossed it in the glove box. Drove 20 miles with the radio cranked up just to drown it out. Still heard it under the music, though. Telling you to stop at the next gas station to look in the mirror, I did a little digging later. Turns out the guy who owned it before me didn't do so hot. Neighbor said he'd been walking around with bandities across his chest for week before they found him. When the coroner unwrapped him, he carved one word into his skin.

Listen. Anyway, it's in a lead pouch now. I'm not touching it again. I'll drop it by the shop when you've got room in the back case. Maybe keep it away from anything that already talks? And call me if it starts whispering your name. Talk soon, brother. Good.

You stayed. The cabinet just fallen quiet, the seabelt light flickering out at last. That is where we return. Shall we? I am pleased to announce, we'll all be given the opportunity to remain in your seat until he calls you. If you need assistance, don't worry.

A flight attendant. will happily help you on your way. Sounds of passengers getting to their feet echoed from further up in the plane. We sat in silence, trying to get a look through the curtains separating us from first class. The captain? No idea, but it didn't sound like they were talking about a pilot to me. What a pungent sulfur smell hit us. So strong that I had to resist the urge to gag.

It reminded me of the worst rotting eggs I'd ever see. smelt in my life. But the old woman sitting ahead of us didn't react. She just kept watching a movie on the back of her seat. We fought it for a few long seconds before giving in, coughing hard and violently. A second later, the curtain opened. Mary and I froze, staring down the now-red fuselage. Four flight attendants passed through the curtain and made their way down the rows towards us.

Grins stretched wide across their faces. They were still crying. But this time, the tears streaking their faces were darker. It's hard to say with the lighting, but my eyes weren't drawn to them, though. I looked over their shoulders at the figure standing near the front of the plane. Black silhouette. Standing beside the cockpit was at least ape towards us with a single finger, called us. The bathrooms!

We ran towards the back of the plane. The flight attendants closing in behind us. Blood dripped from their grinning cheeks onto the carpet. The captain is here. His grin widened as he moved towards us. We made it to the bathrooms. Jumping into opposite sides, I slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing my feet against the folding center part of the door to keep it closed.

I used to speak with the captain. A distinct snapping sound like breaking metal came from her bathroom. You'd scream as the sounds of struggle migrated up towards the front of the plane, towards the black figure I'd seen. I'd like to say I'd jumped out and fought them, that I distracted them or did something heroic. She was carried away. And a few short seconds later, her screaming was cut off.

That was a few hours ago. I'm still locked inside this bathroom. Keep trying not to think of what they've done with her. The thing in the front of the plane did not seem human. I hope it didn't kill her. Not after she was shouting for my help like that. Movement outside in a few hours. But I'm terrified to open the door from the seat outlets,

so my phone's almost dead and I haven't eaten in way too long. If I go out there, will the flight attendants remember? What if that thing is still waiting for people? Time to make a decision. But I'll update you all here with what happens next. After another dozen hours or so, couldn't smell that sulfur anymore.

I cautiously made my way back to my seat. And almost cried. When the grinning, crying flight attendant came by offering a meal. That shitty airline food was the most delicious thing I'd ever fucking eaten in my life. When I'd finished, my mind immediately turned to Mary. I crept down the aisle towards first class, trying to keep a low profile. Surprisingly, the flight attendants were nowhere to be seen.

They'd almost seemed to ignore me, almost as if they wanted me to find her. She had a row to herself and was staring down at her phone in the window seat. I slid into the aisle and shook her arm. She pulled out her headphones and stared at me with a surprised expression. Yeah? Uh, what's going on? What do you mean? We just...

I'm sorry. Remind me how I know you? I realized with sinking horror. She had no idea who I was. I fought back tears. Have you been on this flight? She checked the watch on her wrist. Oh, it's 403 a.m., so a few hours at least?

She stared at me the same way you'd look at a person claiming they were the second coming of Christ. Her tone was low and reassuring. Hey, don't worry so much. Look on the right side. We'll be landing in about an hour. I felt an iron grip on my arm and looked up to see two flight attendants. This area is for first-class passengers only. They were still crying and grinning, but just with tears this time. I could still see streaks of blood staining the front of their uniforms out.

I was escorted back to my seat where I spent the next several days. Attendance continued to stop by with food. I would use the bathroom. and soon was going absolutely crazy with the monotony. In retrospect, those few days weren't so bad. There's a lot of content on the internet after all, even with crappy plane Wi-Fi, 10 days later, when the Wi-Fi failed. It was sometime a week later that I lost control

and began screaming for a flight attendant. They didn't come for several minutes, but eventually one did. Just let me see the captain I'm sorry, sir The captain has made his decision regarding you Quite clear You didn't answer his call And will therefore wait

I'm afraid Don't worry though sir We'll be landing in about an hour She straightened and walked up I started making notches on various parts of the seat back To keep track of different things One notch for each time I used the bathroom, one for each meal, one for every time I watched a given movie, that sort of thing.

It was hell. I watched every movie in the seat back a dozen times over. If I ever acted out badly enough, I would be escorted back to my seat by one or more flight attendants. Any attempted conversation with other passengers was met with confusion by them, followed by a quick escort back to my seat, I guess. It was on or around day 30, and it was psychosis. I broke my laptop and phones screaming at the top of my lungs. No one around me reacted in any way. Two months later, so my legs were tight and cramped constantly. Finally concluded that suicide went towards the emergency exit, I knew normally the pressure inside the airplane forced the doors closed, but I figured that nothing about my situation was normal. If this didn't

work, I'd find some other more painful way to go. I grabbed at the handle and started. I grabbed it to handle and swung it open to my shock. It'd been easily, though no wind of any kind whipped around the cabin. It remained the standard slightly too cold temperature that it had been for the past. Who knows how long? It called to me a black portal out of the plane. I stared at it for a long moment. An attendant's hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me away.

In a fit of anger and strength that surprised me, I wrenched away and jumped out of the plane. The wind whipping past my face was almost. magical. A new sensation after so many months of the same. The ocean below me grew closer and larger, and I realized that suddenly I didn't want to die after all. It grew larger and larger and larger until it seemed that all I could see

was darkness and waves. I impacted the surface of the water so fast and hard that my entire body jerked around in the seat. Sucking at my bruised knuckle, I'd hit it on the seat in front of me. A flight attendant ran down the aisle kneeling beside me. Were you okay, sir? I clenched my hands into fists, almost swinging at her. But then I realized she wasn't grinning.

She wasn't crying. To be honest, she looked a little scared of me. I reached my right hand down to my pocket where I could feel my now on broken phone. 4.4 a.m. Sir, if you calm down, we'll be landing in about an hour. My mouth tasted like ash. I stared on blinking at my phone. It now displayed 4.05 a.m.

Then I looked out my window and began to cry at the sight of city lights below me. We did land in about an hour. Maybe begin to explain why or how, but I'm currently sitting in an airport cafe typing this out. I'm never going to fly again. I sure hope the bartender here at the airport just has a naturally wide grin. Why does it look like he's crying? Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however. Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, Perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances. Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers. Please reach out to antiquarium shop at gmail.com. A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes. in the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you, our best customer. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 102. I've been flying for almost 30 hours, and the flight attendants won't stop crying. Consigned by James Warchester, starring Trevor Shand, April Consolo, Romie. Evans, Jessica McAvoy, Conan Freeman, and Lauren Shand, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abyshech, Clement Panchout, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.