Off
I'm somewhere high over southern Australia, or possibly over the Southern Ocean. It's perfectly dark outside - so black and featureless that the only evidence of anything existing at all is the small part of the wing illuminated by the navigation lights. There's nothing like flying at night to turn one's mind to pseudo-Twilight Zone thoughts: what if everything else really has ceased to exist? What if we're all that's left of reality?
Admittedly, a few gin and tonics have helped these thoughts along too.
We were a little late departing Perth for Melbourne, where I'm spending a week visiting friends. The departure lounge had examples of every cliche of departure lounges everywhere:
- The Jocular Obese Family, gradually increasing in girth with seniority, and laughing uproariously at everything and nothing, as their spherical boys teased and badgered each other good-naturedly.
- The Vividly Ethnic Family, a cluster of dark, silent people, veiled and robed and gazing about with little comprehension at the screens and billboards.
- The Japanese Fashion Victim, who doesn't realise that real men don't do heroin chic as a look.
- The Aggregated Louts, overactive young men on some sort of sporting trip... although they're the sort of people who never go anywhere without appearing to be on a sporting trip, even when they're just popping down to the shops for a carton of milk.
There was even a nun, which wasn't very comforting. When there's a nun on your plane you just know that you're moving dangerously close to 'Airport '77' territory.
Once I got onto the plane I discovered that a woman was sitting in my seat, with her friend sitting next to her. Rather than cause a fuss I just sat in the aisle seat. Fortunately once we got in the air I realised that the entire row on the opposite side of the plane was empty, so I moved across as soon as the seatbelt sign clicked off. Legroom = wheeee!
The only problem now is if we crash, and they identify the bodies by seat allocation, people will think I died wearing a J-Lo cap, hoop earings and hipster jeans. That's not how I want to be remembered. Especially after I went to all the trouble of wearing my Oscar de la Renta ballgown.
Admittedly, a few gin and tonics have helped these thoughts along too.
We were a little late departing Perth for Melbourne, where I'm spending a week visiting friends. The departure lounge had examples of every cliche of departure lounges everywhere:
- The Jocular Obese Family, gradually increasing in girth with seniority, and laughing uproariously at everything and nothing, as their spherical boys teased and badgered each other good-naturedly.
- The Vividly Ethnic Family, a cluster of dark, silent people, veiled and robed and gazing about with little comprehension at the screens and billboards.
- The Japanese Fashion Victim, who doesn't realise that real men don't do heroin chic as a look.
- The Aggregated Louts, overactive young men on some sort of sporting trip... although they're the sort of people who never go anywhere without appearing to be on a sporting trip, even when they're just popping down to the shops for a carton of milk.
There was even a nun, which wasn't very comforting. When there's a nun on your plane you just know that you're moving dangerously close to 'Airport '77' territory.
Once I got onto the plane I discovered that a woman was sitting in my seat, with her friend sitting next to her. Rather than cause a fuss I just sat in the aisle seat. Fortunately once we got in the air I realised that the entire row on the opposite side of the plane was empty, so I moved across as soon as the seatbelt sign clicked off. Legroom = wheeee!
The only problem now is if we crash, and they identify the bodies by seat allocation, people will think I died wearing a J-Lo cap, hoop earings and hipster jeans. That's not how I want to be remembered. Especially after I went to all the trouble of wearing my Oscar de la Renta ballgown.
posted by Blandwagon at 7:32 PM
2 Comments:
You wore an Oscar de la Renta in economy class?! I swear, Blanders, you're just not the man who brought A-lines back into fashion.
Bland: Hope you have a great time in Melbs.
For some reason, the Jocular Obeses brought to mind the Klump family in Eddie Mrphy's Nutty Professor movies. Go figure.
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