Is it that time already? Holiday season is just about over. Still, mid-term break will be here soon and maybe you are lucky enough to be getting away for a few days from the pending doom of energy crises and the next variant of a virus?
Before you get to that beach or swimming pool to relax and try and prevent your four-year-old from drowning, more than likely you are taking the plane.
The plane flight can be a very interesting insight into human nature. We meet all types of characters as we manoeuvre our way across the ocean to our land of dreams.
Take the moment you sit down.
You are sitting in the middle because your beloved or child has commandeered the window seat. You dread the fact that the empty seat beside you hasn’t been taken yet. As more passenger’s board, you eye each one of them. You know any one of these travellers can be next to you for over two hours. Then you see him. Sweating, panting, walking sideways down the aisle because he can’t fit front ways. It’s the big guy. You put your head down pretending to read the emergency pamphlet and are now an expert in nosediving down a chute if required. He is getting closer. You can hear his breathing. You are the girl in the film in the empty carpark with the one-legged man behind you. This time however all you can hear is, “Eighteen A, Nineteen A…” and then it happens. With one gasp and a Tsunami type landing, he rattles your seat and you are whiplashed. His arm brushes against you and will be doing so for the duration.
Following on behind him is the woman with the child. Louder than the engine on the Boeing she is letting everyone know, she has arrived. “No Charlie, we have to sit down now. Here take your teddy,” She turns to everyone with a sigh as if this holiday is a trial for her, “He’s very tired.”
The air hostess (or steward) is trying to be patient and smiles as she picks the child’s toy up for the third time and the plane hasn’t even taxied yet. Its going to be a long day. Big guy has got up again to put his bag in the overhead but can’t get it in. One: because it is too much work but two: because he has it too full. He pushes, shoves, his belly waving in your face, back to the emergency pamphlet. It’s upside down, you don’t care. The steward kindly smiles and takes the bag from him despite saying to herself, just put the f* bag in.
The mother now has crayons out for Charlie, but he wants to go climbing. Into your seat. Jam is smeared on his face as he screams at you. Your air pods are a godsend. You wince as she repeats about his tiredness. You think that is what she is saying but aren’t sure and don’t care because you have your music on full blast.
Then the latecomers arrive. The plane is ready to go and you see the frantic arrival. Bags in one hand, passports and phones in the other. The look of people who have left the gas on as they hurriedly make their way through the door. The air hostess smiles. God knows what she thinks of this lot.
In the other aisle there is commotion. Why? It’s the wrong seat brigade! “No, I am nineteen B!” “No, no…. look here is my boarding pass, I’m nineteen B” It’s like the scene in Spartacus. “No, I am Spartacus!” The smiling yet, fit to kill air hostess comes to sort the problem and Spartacus the second is moved slowly down the aisle to nine B. Where he should have been ten minutes ago. The only problem is that the latecomers are coming down the aisle with the worried look as if the plane is about to be highjacked and start back tracking as they apologise.
It all works out and you get away. Everything is going fine and it seems now time to relax. So good that some people get even more confident. You know them. The walker rounders! You know the one’s! They think they are seasoned travellers so they can walk up eight rows to speak to] their relations in nine b…. Spartacus and his wife. They lean over the back of the seat with one arm on the headrest. Bum tucked in every now and again as the air hostess is trying to get past with a sausage sandwich for the guy sitting next to you.
Then out of nowhere, when you think you have seen it all you get the next of the species. The standupper! The stand upper is a funny breed. For no reason, they just shoot up in their seat to stretch their legs. Don’t go anywhere, just stand up! Like a pillar that has been erected in the middle of the plane. The stand upper just wants to be seen. Probably a jogger or runner, and can’t be seen enough here, no need for lycra on this baby, so just decides to stand up. There he is. What’s he doing? Nothing, just standing up. And in a few minutes. He sits down. Like one of those insects David Attenborough looks at and says, “Nobody is quite sure why but….”
The plane lands. The seatbelts unclick. It is still ten minutes before anyone can go anywhere but this is a race to the death. I will get my bag before you and I will be the first to the back of the passport control queue no matter what.
This time however, You won’t. The sausage sandwich was tasty. Big guy is in a coma and snoring. You shake your head. The air hostess smiles. This time her smile is genuine. In twenty minutes, this shower will be gone.