It has finally happened: your fountain pen exploded on an airplane.
You have taken a fountain pen on a plane many times before and have never had a problem, but in-flight pensplosion is a common fear. That’s why you could instantly identify the judgmental frown your seatmate gave you during boarding; it was the frown of someone convinced your pen would make a huge mess in-flight, based on a knowledge of fountain pen physics sourced from Gonzo-focused episodes of Muppet Babies.
And so you responded to your seatmate’s grimace with one of your own, silently communicating your own disapproval in turn.
“Oh, Kevin,” you said without words, “you sweet simpleton! Fountain pens never leak on a plane. Here, take my copy of Departures; there is a word jumble about the amazing ROM fitness device on page 43 that will keep you busy.”
You then settled in for takeoff, infinitely pleased with yourself.
Until, that is, you pulled out your travel-safe, vacuum-filling pen in-flight, jotted down a few notes, and realized your hands looked like you tried to strangle a squid.
What? Is this really happening? Yes: you look down at your ink-drenched hands and despair. This is not a few drops of ink in the cap from jostling.
This is a lot. This is bad.
“I told you so,” says Kevin’s smirk.
How did this happen?
Hubris. Hubris is how it happened.
You are no neophyte; you know how fountain pens work. You know that “capillary action” is just a cover story and that fountain pens actually work due to a centuries-old yet still-tenuous detente between humanity and the ink goblins. You know how to store ink properly to keep them content and how to use “fountain pen flush” if they ever get too riled up.
And you know that they HATE flying.
Not because of the change in air pressure, of course, but because ink goblins are famously parochial by disposition. They have no interest in other places and cultures and the idea that you would take them on a long-distance journey makes them tremendously angry, to the point of mutiny.
Thus, you know that air travel requires a “travel-safe” pen with a shutoff valve or at least keeping your pen nib-up to minimize goblin mayhem.
And here, you actually did both. You brought a Pineider vacuum-filler pen with a shutoff valve, locked it in place, and then put it nib-up until the cabin pressurized.
But you got cocky.
You saw a YouTube video about how you can totally disassemble a Pineider and took it upon yourself to dismantle it the last time you cleaned it. “I can do it!” you said, drunk on your own perception of competence.
And you did! But then you forgot to put silicone grease on the threads at the back of the pen when you reassembled it, because you are a magnificent idiot.
So, when you closed the shutoff valve, you prevented the ink goblins from escaping via the nib. But without a protective layer of grease to make the back of the pen airtight, you gave them an alternate route of escape that they quickly seized upon. Here, a diagram:
And so, as it were, your pen had a blowout from its rear end. Like a toddler.
What now?
Well, that depends. Did you pack a paper towel? A rag? Some hand sanitizer and moisturizer, just in case?
No, you idiot! Of course you didn’t! Because this NEVER happens on a plane, except to you!
The drink cart has not come yet, either, so you can’t pin your hopes on a tiny napkin made of sandpaper. So what now?
You have a few options:
Notice that you still have a lot of skin that isn’t covered in ink. Just smear it around, distributing it evenly on your body, until you are not actively dripping anymore. This is the best option if you use red ink; no one will say anything.
Stay perfectly still, hands cupped, until the ink dries. Close your eyes and make some droning noises so people think you are meditating.
Are you wearing black pants? If not, you are now. (If you have not spilled enough ink to make your pants entirely black and instead you end up with hand-shaped ink stains on your thighs, no worries: the key to fashion is confidence, so just walk off the plane with your head held high and everyone will marvel at how avant-garde you are.)
Make it a team effort! Introduce yourself to your seatmate, shake hands with them, and then immediately shout “ew gross what did you do to my hand?” Now it’s a problem for both of you!
Did you use edible ink? Is that a thing? If so, just treat this as a fun in-flight snack.
All of these options are a great way to limit the damage until the drink cart comes by and you can use an ice cube and sad little napkin to clean up as best you can. None of that will look weird at all.
Now you know! You’re welcome!
And don’t forget to grease the back of a vacuum filler if you take it apart!
So if I don’t buy a Pineider none of this will happen, they said while boarding the flight with several vacuum fillers and Japanese eyedroppers.
My brand new TWSBI mini vac-filler leaked on a plane (with the valve closed). Not a ton, but enough to permanently stain a lovely pen case and give me inky fingers for awhile. (Of course, I would normally have put a full pen in a plastic bag, but I was overconfident, because vac-filler!)