678 Pushed the wrong button 按錯(cuò)了按鈕
Flying through the Midwest in the summertime means one thing: turbulence. Just after a teenager girl had entered the bathroom, we hit a patch of very rough air. After the bumps had subsided, she exited the bathroom, a look of sheer terror etched on her face. “Are you all right?” I asked. “That turbulence was so bad.” “So that's what it was,” she said. “I thought I'd pushed the wrong button.”
夏天在美國(guó)中西部飛行就代表一件事:渦流。一個(gè)十幾歲的女生剛進(jìn)到洗手間,我們的飛機(jī)就遇到一整片十分不平穩(wěn)的氣流。等顛簸平復(fù)下來(lái)以后,她從洗手間里出來(lái)了,滿臉害怕的樣子。我問(wèn)她:“你不要緊吧?這股渦流可夠厲害的。”她說(shuō):“原來(lái)是這樣一回事。我以為是因?yàn)槲野村e(cuò)了開(kāi)關(guān)。”