The random shit I see on Facebook! The man across the aisle thought the airplane Wi-Fi network was a distress signal.
And for about four minutes, I honestly understood why.
This happened on an Alaska Airlines flight from San Francisco to Portland, which is usually the kind of flight where everyone has either a Patagonia jacket, a laptop, or a reusable water bottle that looks like it has been on more hikes than I have.
I was in 12C.
Aisle seat.
Across from me in 12D was a man in his early sixties with reading glasses, a newspaper, and the intense energy of someone who still prints hotel confirmations.
He seemed nice.
A little serious.
The kind of man who says “the internet” like it’s a location.
We took off.
Totally normal.
Seatbelt sign went off.
People opened laptops.
Someone two rows up immediately started watching a movie without headphones, because apparently society is fragile.
I pulled out my phone to connect to the Wi-Fi.
That’s when the man across the aisle leaned over.
Him: “Excuse me.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Him: “Do you see that?”
Me: “See what?”
Him: “On the Wi-Fi.”
I looked at my phone.
There were several networks.
Alaska_WiFi.
Alaska_Guest.
Somebody’s hotspot called “NotYourHotspot.”
And one that said:
HELP_IM_STUCK_ON_A_PLANE
I stared at it.
He stared at it.
Then he whispered, “That seems bad.”
To be fair.
It did seem bad.
Me: “I think that’s probably somebody’s phone hotspot.”
Him: “Why would someone name it that?”
Me: “Because people are strange.”
Him: “Should we tell someone?”
Me: “I don’t think so.”
Him: “It says help.”
Now the woman in 12E, next to him, looks over.
Woman: “What says help?”
Him: “The Wi-Fi.”
Woman: “The Wi-Fi says help?”
Me: “A hotspot says help.”
Woman: “That feels different from regular help.”
The man holds up his phone like it’s evidence in a trial.
Him: “Look.”
Woman: “Oh.”
Me: “It’s probably a joke.”
Him: “Probably?”
Me: “Most likely.”
Woman: “I don’t love ‘most likely’ at 30,000 feet.”
Now the guy behind me leans forward.
Behind guy: “Did someone say help?”
Me: “No.”
Him: “The Wi-Fi did.”
Behind guy: “The Wi-Fi asked for help?”
Me: “The Wi-Fi did not ask for help. Someone named their hotspot weird.”
A college student across the aisle takes out one AirPod.
College student: “What’s the hotspot called?”
The man shows him.
College student: “Oh, that’s hilarious.”
Him: “It is not hilarious.”
College student: “It kind of is.”
Woman: “Could it be a crew code?”
Me: “I really don’t think the crew is using public Wi-Fi names to communicate.”
Behind guy: “You never know.”
This is how it spreads.
One concerned man.
One weird hotspot name.
One row of people with too much imagination.
Within sixty seconds, rows 11 through 13 are aware that someone’s phone is named HELP_IM_STUCK_ON_A_PLANE.
The flight attendant walks by with a trash bag.
The man raises his hand.
Him: “Excuse me.”
Flight attendant: “Yes?”
Him: “There’s something on the Wi-Fi.”
Flight attendant: “Okay.”
Him: “It says help.”
Flight attendant: “The Wi-Fi says help?”
Me: “It’s a hotspot.”
Flight attendant: “Ah.”
Him: “Do you know whose it is?”
Flight attendant: “No, sir.”
Him: “Shouldn’t we find out?”
Flight attendant: “I’m going to guess someone thought they were funny.”
The college student raises his hand slightly.
College student: “To be fair, they were.”
The man does not appreciate this.
Him: “What if someone is actually stuck?”
Flight attendant: “Sir, we are all technically stuck on the plane.”
College student: “That’s the joke.”
I had to look down.
I could not laugh.
The flight attendant stayed very calm.
Flight attendant: “I’ll make a quick announcement, okay?”
Him: “Thank you.”
Me: “Oh no.”
Woman: “This is going to get worse.”
The flight attendant walked to the front.
A second later, the speaker clicked on.
Flight attendant: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a small request. If your phone hotspot is named HELP_IM_STUCK_ON_A_PLANE, could you please rename it or turn it off? It is causing some concern in row 12.”
Silence.
Then half the plane started laughing.
Not quiet laughing.
Full-body, Sunday-night-airport-exhaustion laughing.
A hand slowly went up in row 18.
A guy in a beanie yelled, “My bad!”
The flight attendant looked down the aisle.
Flight attendant: “Thank you, sir.”
The man across the aisle turned bright red.
Him: “I was just being cautious.”
Me: “Honestly, fair.”
Woman: “It did say help.”
College student: “And we were on a plane.”
The guy from row 18 walked up later to use the bathroom and stopped by our row.
Beanie guy: “Sorry about that.”
Him: “You named your phone that?”
Beanie guy: “My brother did it last Thanksgiving and I forgot.”
Him: “For months?”
Beanie guy: “I don’t use hotspot much.”
Woman: “Your brother has caused aviation confusion.”
Beanie guy: “He’d be proud.”
The serious man looked like he wanted to be mad, but couldn’t fully get there.
Him: “You should change it.”
Beanie guy: “Already did.”
Me: “What is it now?”
Beanie guy: “Definitely_Not_A_Distress_Signal.”
The college student almost fell out of his seat.
The man just stared.
Him: “That is not better.”
Flight attendant, passing by: “It is a little better.”
After that, the whole section relaxed.
The man across the aisle eventually smiled, just a little.
He folded his newspaper, looked at me, and said, “I suppose I overreacted.”
Me: “Maybe a little.”
Woman: “But if it had been real, you would’ve been the hero.”
College student: “Row 12: cybersecurity division.”
Him: “I am not in cybersecurity.”
Me: “You are now.”
For the rest of the flight, every time the flight attendant passed, she gave him updates.
Flight attendant: “No further Wi-Fi emergencies.”
Him: “Very funny.”
Flight attendant: “We remain safely connected.”
Him: “You’re enjoying this.”
Flight attendant: “A little.”
When we landed in Portland, people stood up immediately because apparently airplane seats become lava after touchdown.
The guy from row 18 walked past us.
Beanie guy: “Safe travels, row 12.”
College student: “Stay vigilant.”
Woman: “Rename your phone.”
Him: “Please.”
As we walked off the plane, the flight attendant stood by the door.
She looked at the man and said, “Thank you for protecting the network.”
He tried not to smile.
Failed.
Him: “Somebody had to.”
And honestly?
He wasn’t wrong.
Because most of us saw a weird Wi-Fi name and thought, “That’s dumb.”
He saw it and thought, “Not on my watch.”
A little dramatic?
Yes.
But somewhere between San Francisco and Portland, one retired-looking guy with a newspaper briefly became the self-appointed sheriff of airplane Wi-Fi.
And I respect that.




