Tuesday, 14 July 2009

Get off my plane.

As we all know Harrison Ford used to be the President of the United States. While on Air Force One, he was annoyed by Gary Oldman and so threw him out of the aircraft mid-flight. Gary Oldman was caught by the Dementors and then imprisoned in Azkaban. This is all true.

There are times when I sympathize with Harrison. I'm afraid I'm going to moan now. Please adopt the brace position.

I am sat on an aeroplane. Well technically I am sat in it. Sitting on it would be loud and impractical. The man in front of me smells of rotting meat. A baby cries across the aisle and someone is kicking my seat. The air is close and stale. The airline I am using seems to deem it necessary for the cabin crew to talk to their passengers as little as possible. Instead, the safety announcement is almost sung out by a pre recorded pre orgasmic male voice. He ardently cries for me to enjoy my flight. This is unlikely.

The captain has just informed us that we shall be grounded for a further ten minutes. “Ten minutes?!” Mr Rotting Meat yells in anguish. Oh, heaven forefend you are delayed in returning to your fetid miserable excuse for a life. Yes it is uncomfortable but where is your staying power man? Did you forget it as well as forgetting to wash? The trick is to remain calm you annoying bastard.

As you see, I am aggravated. I don’t want to descend into a tirade against current standards or lose myself in how-things-used-to-be…but I’m trapped in a seat for the next two hours with nothing but a notebook, a biro and rising stress levels for company.  Was flying always this trying? I am told that air stewardesses in the 1950s were attractive, attentive and capable. Frankly I don’t believe either Kerry or Michelle could marshal my fellow passengers and me to safety. I don’t believe that’s their natural hair colour either. The baby is still crying. I’m pretty sure I saw Satan in its eyes as I stowed my hand luggage in the overhead locker.

Despite all of this, I cannot help but enjoy the raw sensation of flight, much like the President who, prior to his inauguration, flew the Millennium Falcon.  I can’t understand those people who flick through magazines as they power into the sky. “You are defying gravity, soaring like a bird, traveling faster than you will in the rest of your life. Stop reading the In Flight Magazine and look around you!” I want to yell. But social decency forbids it. “Behold the azure sky, survey those talcum powder spills of cloud, the mountains, piles of Turkish delight below!” I might add.

On a more prosaic note, the ‘wide selection of delicious sandwiches’ on offer is not delicious. And ‘wide selection’ is a naught but a grandiose misnomer for the two types of the sorriest looking comestibles I’ve ever seen.

No comments:

Post a Comment