I survived “The Security Check” – just barely.
I’ve waded my way through the enticing duty-free shops, having only bought a handful of items I would never normally buy on the streets on a normal day.
I know I’m not the only one.
You do it too. Buying. Lots. Always.
There are a number of interesting moments to consider in a flight.
Particularly a long-haul.
I’m that person.
You know the one.
I get to my boarding gate in time.
Yes I know we’ll all get in the plane eventually.
But I like to get in first.
Check the layout of the land out.
Proximity to the loos.
Comfort of the seat.
You know. Important things! Meaningful things.
You know they are.
Yes you do.
Moving on ….
Important things like …. make sure my bag has a spot in the overhead lockers.
Which brings me to the next it for discussion:
The Overhead Locker.
Is it just me or is that like a fight to death.
It’s another reason I like to board as soon as I can.
Space for my hand luggage.
Because I’m a woman and that’s what we do.
Carry a ton of stuff that we’re not going to use/eat/read in the flight but have to have it anyway.
I’ve actually been on a plane when there’s been a standoff between a passenger with a small handbag taking up a lot of space in the overhead lockers versus a man who boarded last.
The kind of last where your name is being called over the intercom! And then he rushes on, demanding a space for his stretching-size-limits-to-the-max bag, and argues with the snarky woman with the small handbag who refuses to put it under her seat.
What do I care? I got on first and am comfortably settled into my first movie already 🙂
So now I’m settled.
Know where the loos are.
My bag is safe in the overhead locker.
I’m acting like the smug passenger who travels all the time and knows exactly what to do.
You know the kind.
The kind that pretends to not watch the safety film because they travel so much but actually are watching from the corner of their eye — just in case they’re called upon to be a hero.
I’m talking to you!
The wait for “your neighbour” begins.
Now I KNOW I’m not alone here.
You know what I’m talking about.
Desperately looking around willing anyone who’s about to sit next to you to “keep on walking”
I’m the kind of passenger that likes to plug my earphones in, listen to music, watch a movie, do a crossword, and try get a little shuteye.
I’ve had a very random set of neighbours. I’ll list a few for your reading pleasure …..
> There was the drunk Dutch man on a flight from South Africa to London, who drank so much and burped so much I eventually had to sit in the air stewards jump seats for the entire flight as there were no other empty seats.
> There was the Swedish guy who told me about all his sexual conquests with much gusto despite my asking him to stop numerous times.
> There was the weird Aussie-British guy who would say absolutely nothing until I put my earphones in, then he’d tap me on the shoulder, wait for me to take my earphones out, then ask for a movie recommendation. Which I gave to him, but then he continued to tap me on the shoulder the whole way through the movie and give commentary. I got my revenge on him though — I waited until he was in a deep, snoring sleep, tapped him in the shoulder numerous times (a bit like Sheldon on Peggy’s door in Big Bang theory LINK HERE) and asked him to move so I could pee.
He wasn’t impressed.
I didn’t care.
I even did it once more just to make sure I got full revenge (evil laugh).
The list goes on.
If you’re travelling in cattle class – aka economy – I don’t care how much they say it’s comfortable, no one likes to feel like a sardine. There’s no getting around it unless you lucky enough to fly in an upgraded cabin.
What can I say about this. It’s aeroplane food. As long as you don’t expect a gourmet meal, you’ll be absolutely fine.
Unless of course you had the delicious, restaurant-worthy beef fillet with roast potatoes and carrots I had in a recent long-haul flight. NOM NOM NOM
Referring to the random neighbours I’ve had, have a drink, I don’t care. But don’t be slobbering all over the place, messing your red wine on me (that happened), or your whisky (love arriving at a destination smelling like someone else’s brewery – always fun to get the customs officials to raise their eyes in judgment at you.
Now, call me old-fashioned but Mile-high-club. Really? I can barely fit my wide-screen butt in there. Two people in there?! Um. No.
And that’s the journey.
The whole thing.
In a nutshell.
Oh no! I forgot.
There’s still the baggage claim.
Where you wait for your bag. Am I the only person who’s bags tend to always be amongst the last few that arrive?
I break out into sweats. It’s not so bad coming home, because if the bag doesn’t arrive, I’ve still got a cupboard-full of clothes.
if the bag doesn’t arrive when I’m on an outward journey, especially on a business trip, that’s more worrisome and annoying…because I do have to go buy new clothes if mine don’t arrive in time.
Well – there’s your Up-Side: