In 2014, passengers on a Ryanair flight were warned three times not to consume nuts because a 4-year-old girl onboard had a life-threatening nut allergy. Despite the repeated announcements, a passenger seated four rows away chose to eat nuts anyway. The girl suffered an anaphylactic reaction, and the passenger was subsequently banned from flying with the airline for two years.
The incident took place on a Ryanair flight from the Canary Islands to London in August 2014. After crew members informed passengers that a child onboard had a severe nut allergy, one traveler allegedly continued eating nuts despite multiple warnings.
Roughly 20 minutes into the flight, the girl experienced a serious allergic reaction and had to use an epinephrine auto-injector. Ryanair later issued the passenger a two-year flying ban.
However, the exact trigger for the reaction has been questioned. Allergy specialists point out that there is limited scientific evidence supporting the idea that anaphylaxis can be caused by someone eating nuts several rows away. Research suggests airborne exposure at that distance is unlikely to carry sufficient allergens, raising the possibility that surface contact or another source may have been responsible.
해외 젠더평등 관련 일러스트 보면 비유 구도가 거의 고정임.
남자는 엘리베이터 타고 올라가고
여자는 계단 오름.
남자는 서류가방 하나 들고 뛰고
여자는 애 업고, 유모차 끌고, 집안일 짐까지 들고 뜀.
이게 과장이 아니라
“같은 출발선처럼 보이지만 실제 조건은 다르다”를 제일 직관적으로 보여주는 방식임.
그래서 “요즘 세상에 여자라서 불리한 게 어딨냐”는 말이 진짜 공허한 거임.
경기장은 같아 보여도
누구한테는 트랙이고
누구한테는 장애물 코스임.
Across Britain right now, farmers are shearing their sheep, bagging up the wool, and burning it. Some bury it. Some leave it to rot in a corner of the field. The wool-burning has made the odd headline as a protest, but the truth is duller and sadder. The fleece is worth less than the diesel it would take to haul it to the depot.
The numbers are grim. In recent years a kilo of British wool has fetched somewhere between twenty and sixty pence, and hill breeds like Swaledale and Welsh Mountain sank as low as ten. A whole fleece off a mountain ewe might bring thirty pence. Shearing that same ewe costs the farmer around two pounds. One Lincolnshire farmer added it up out loud: over three pounds to shear and cart a single fleece to the depot, and twenty-six pence back. So she burns them. A great many do.
Here is the part that stings. The shearing still has to happen, every year, whatever the wool will fetch. A sheep left in full fleece overheats, struggles to move, and gets eaten alive by maggots. So the job carries on purely as welfare, a cost the farmer simply eats to spare the animal, with the wool itself going on the fire straight after.
And think about what this fibre once was. For centuries wool was the engine of the English economy, the country's greatest export and the crown's main source of tax. It raised the soaring wool churches of the Cotswolds. It turned merchants into princes. To this day, whoever presides over the House of Lords sits on the Woolsack, a literal cushion of wool, put there in the fourteenth century so nobody would forget where the nation's wealth began.
Prices have lifted off the floor this past year, the first real relief in a long while. It still does not cover the shears for a hill farmer. The fibre that built England now smoulders in a heap behind the barn, and almost nobody notices the smoke.