I've had it with overnight flights. They are passé and bullshit. I used to be right into them. I figured, at least there's a chance of the girls sleeping more hours on an overnight flight rather than a daytime one. Less hours to try and control them, stuff them with pureed food, force bottles down their throats, entertain with stories, stickers, a finger puppet show, new "plane toys", walk 10 km up and down the plane aisles, change a million nappies etc etc. All that eye contact avoidance also wears you out. My brother recently admitted to me that he is the kind of passenger, who desperately seeks an exhausted and pitiful parent's eye, so he can shoot lasers into their sockets and liquefy their brains. I don't blame him. I long for the day, when I too, will be able to once again direct my loathing towards my fellow passengers with babies. You think I'd be more understanding? No chance. In fact much less.
 |
| Still looks pretty though |
Look, I may be starting off on a complaining note, but really, my twinnies were unbelievable considering the circumstances. We were scheduled for a 8.30pm take off. I had made sure they didn't nap during the day, so they would be extra tired at night. I forced Valli to walk when she nodded off on my shoulder at around 2pm. Sometimes you've got to be cruel (to them) to be kind (to yourself). This was a risky plan though. They were still tired from the Disney extravaganza. We had checked out of our hotel, and were therefore, out and about all day. A non event. A few shabby vintage shops, some half-opened cherry blossoms, and lots of rain. Another piss on the floor from young Cordi during toy play-time as well. This was in a small shop, so it didn't go undetected this time. I spent money so they wouldn't hate us. In return, the shop assistant cleaned up her wee.
 |
| Valli once enjoyed magazines as in-flight entertainment |
The bus on the way to the airport was rocking side to side in the wind. The driver was having real issues keeping control. When we finally got off, it was a nightmare trying to get in the airport doors. Cordi nearly got blown under a taxi. The flight was delayed by 2 hours. Apparently, they were expecting the wind to stop. That meant we wouldn't be on the plane until 10.30pm, and the girls were already approaching over-tired territory. This is very bad indeed. When they were babies, it could have meant hours of us pacing the plane, and them screaming horrifically all night. It's not as chronic now, but it's still not pretty.
So we get on the plane, and it's swaying as though it's already in the air. It takes pretty strong winds to blow a stationary plane around like that. Everyone is freaking out looking around. I catch the flight attendants making "This is really scary" faces to each other. That's when you know for sure there's a problem. We spend another hour and a half waiting to take off. The pilot comes on the intercom and announces "Hi Everyone, How about these winds?? Apparently they're blowing at 80km an hour!!! (way to reassure dude) I've just seen a couple of planes try to land and then change their minds at the last minute. I guess they've gone somewhere else - I hope they're OK!!! (another reassurance - maybe he missed the "Comforting Talk" seminar at pilot school). But look, don't worry. I don't want to die, so that means I'm not flying if it looks bad. That means you all won't plummet to your deaths in a screaming fireball either. In the meantime - take it easy....relax, put your feet up and your Qantas pajama suit on. Lets have fun with this". OK he didn't mention the "die" word or "fireball". It's probably illegal to say those things. Just like "bomb" or "terrorist". I wonder what would happen if you put it all together - "die in a fireball bomb, terrorist".....immediate handcuffs and dragging I'm sure......We predicted that they would unload us and put us up in a hotel. We were wrong. It was all systems go. Take off was a truly terrifying experience. I have never felt anything close to that much plane induced fear. My only consolation was that the severe shaking sent the girls off to sleep. Ah, to be innocent to impending doom (and to find being vigorously jolted relaxing).
I don't usually fancy eating my dinner while being shook violently at midnight - but sometimes you've got to go with the flow. I wanted wine. Unfortunately it was slopping out of the glass faster than I could drink it. When I went to have some soup, the bowl was empty and floating in the tray. I still can't believe they even served us, but I guess the show must go on. I asked for another glass of red....managed to get 2 sips this time round. It's not easy trying to sleep under those kind of conditions either. All that shaking was making me feel really nauseous. All I could think about was beef being mixed (really well) with red wine and lemon tart. Yuk. It was a rough night. It's the dryness of mouth and eyes which always takes it's toll on me. At least I was well over my flu of the week before last. During the flight I took from Sendai, I was coughing like an 18 year old bucket smoking uni student, and the girls were my degenerate apprentices. I wasn't just a foreign woman and her twins. But a sick, spluttering, foreign woman, and her sick, spluttering twins. Possibly your greatest plane enemy. Hey, I even hated myself. Still, I can't bring myself to wear a face mask though. I'm just not that considerate. Besides, I actually want to spread my disease. Look, someone gave it to me, thus I get to pass it on too. I aim to infect as many people as possible.
 |
| Far too considerate in my opinion - get those germs airborne |
So, basically our homecoming was the flight from hell. Nine hours of non-stop severe turbulence. I have never been so glad to hit the runway. When we touched down, I tried to start a clap. It's always embarrassing when they don't catch on isn't it? There's not enough touch-down clapping in my opinion. For gods sake, some dude just flew 442 000 kg of steel, flesh and other assorted crap, across the world, without killing the lot of us - and breaking my gifts. Surely that deserves a bit of recognition - not just complaints because we were behind schedule. It was annoying to be late though .....that dude on the tarmac bus had a point. We not only missed our connecting flight, but the second one they put us on (by ten minutes), and thus had hours to wait at Sydney airport. It just doesn't go down well after a sleepless night spent feeling like you were going to 'call for Ruth' any second, all over your plane sleep suit. I never scrub up that well after an over-nighter. I don't think there's any worse you can physically look, than in the mirror of a squashy plane toilet at 4am under the fluorescent light....while the aroma of urine lingers in the air.....There has been countless occasions where in the middle of the night I've thought to myself "Right that's it. No more travelling - it's just too hard". But once we touch down, I forget....and do it over and over again. A bit like childbirth really.
But we're back in Melbourne now and I've recovered from my "ordeal". When I'm getting a little bit too whiny, I just remind myself that nine hours on a plane sure is easier than ten days at sea. Even if it felt like we actually did tackle the Pacific......
No comments:
Post a Comment