Cliff's face must have been really pale, because it certainly wasn't bucket yet, and he was ready to shovel to the door, scoop the handle, and let the vacuum release, sending dust up behind him as his body jet-dried out the door.
Cliff had never been on an airplane before in his life. Neither have most people, but it was coincidently his first time in one as well. His obvious lack of comfort must have gotten to the old woman next to him; she seemed to eye the passengers of the Indian persuasion, but she could have just been racist. Cliff didn't take the time to care about it, his feet started to melt and his arms became rubber. The ulcers in his stomach burst, and his face erupted in a fit of screams.
Then he farted. It was hilarious. Everyone laughed, and suddenly, everything was alright.
Three minutes later the engine exploded upon ignition, killing everyone within a half-mile radius.