Fly-Away, Hold over for Odin 15 Options

[Peterpan]

Fly-Away

By Beverleigh Annegarn


There is always such excitement when you are handed your boarding card for an aeroplane trip. One can feel it from the other passengers too. Most are smiling and chatting to strangers in the queue. We are all going (ultimately) in different directions and for different purposes. I normally request a window seat. I enjoy watching-out even if it is from over the wing. Taking-off and landing is also exhilarating when spying out the double glazed hole often with moisture in-between. Last time we flew, we floated through layers of cloud which turned into tarmac much too suddenly!

Once the pilot has steered the plane to a comfortable altitude the trolleys roll up and down the aisles issuing ‘chicken or beef’ to the expectant traveller. One is forever optimistic that the contents of the container will be gourmet…it never is. But, the threat of being uncomfortable and hungry for the next twelve hours is so great it forces one to eat the cardboard with relish.

Once you are satisfied that plane food will always be plain food unless of course you are lucky enough to be in the ‘front of the bus’, you decide to sample the bar trolley. Fortunately, that trolley is not full of surprises and Coke is Coke and Beer is Heineken etc etc.

Then, of course, you have the need to wander up the aisle to that silly cubicle with the door which folds in half. As you push on the door, the odour of blue disinfectant hits you in the face. Even though you are not large, you squeeze yourself into the stainless steel capsule and try to decipher which button to press where and when. Firstly, not forgetting to lock the door so that the ‘engaged’ sign flashes for the rest of the plane to observe.

Stepping over sleeping passengers you walk towards your window seat to find the person on the aisle is stretched out and snoring! (He is hugging the copy of TIME with Hillary Clinton on the front cover). The movie you were dying to see has started and your headphones are not working. Ultimately, you decide to try and sleep as tomorrow is going to be an electrifying day of tourist attractions.

In the early hours of the morning you awaken to try and manually and take your tongue off the roof of your mouth. Your aisle traveller has not moved and is still happily baying to the now sinking moon and the hostess is not responding to your buzzer for water. In desperation you climb over the contented snorer (with envy) and fetch your own water. The air in the plane is foul and you are starting to wish you had paid the extra and flown on the Concorde after all.

Then the whole plane starts to awaken. There is a long queue down the aisle for the silver cubicle. Breakfast of powdered eggs is served in fresh cardboard boxes and Fruitree orange juice so full of preservatives that they almost corrode the plastic cup.

At the back of the plane is a group of boys on a tennis tour. The one boy cannot stop talking. He takes the whole plane through thirty six holes of golf…with ball by ball entertainment. His voice is breaking and it looses pitch every now and again. I sat there giggling to myself. When we finally disembarked I saw the accompanying teacher and I commiserated with her. She said she needed a lot of energy for this tour. I thought, we needed a lot of energy just for the plane trip!

What happened to the enthusiasm we walked onto the plane with? Slowly but surely over the hours the fun of flying-away dissipated into the heavens. I suppose it is important to embark with eagerness, there is often no other means of travel. Or are we just forever optimistic?