Once when I was a new captain on the MD80, our flight from Dallas to Austin was being delayed due to maintenance. I am going to say that we were already over an hour late, though I really don’t remember, when word came that a replacement aircraft was being brought over from the hangar. It arrived as advertised and we quickly went about our business with preflight checks.
There was a scent in the air that suggested that lavatory servicing might have been overlooked, but I reasoned that, considering it was a short flight, these people were late enough already and would rather put up with a hint of unserviced lavatory tanks in trade for an ambitious effort to eliminate any further delay. Once we were airborne there was no doubt, I had played the wrong card on that hand. The rankness ranked well beyond a hint, you could practically cut the air with a knife. The disgustingness was indescribable, a mixture of blue flushing liquid designed to out-fragrant the other stuff that might go down the toilet during a typical MD80 flight of 3-4 hours, allowed to ferment for three days on a ramp in Texas in the summertime. Yes, it was three days, in hindsight, and the prior flight must have been long and needy.
The clues I had missed were now right in front of my face, no matter which way I turned it. I found myself pointing all available air vents at my face in a fruitless attempt to breathe something, anything, besides that, but I only increased the rate of delivery. The effect of fester-time was a lesson forever etched into my mind, and my olfactory has never forgiven me. I could only imagine what was going on in the cabin. My only recourse was to make an apologetic announcement and tell them I had their interests in mind, but I doubt anybody could remember what their interests were at that particular moment.
Captain’s Log 