Air Travel Ballet

I consider myself a relatively rational human being and I definitely don’t understand the principles of aerodynamics, so as the luggage is pulled out for our upcoming trip let the air ballet warm-up begin! The priming begins pre-flight of course, there is so much to prepare for isn’t there? 

For a start surviving the first round of queues. Or, more accurately, a series of concentric circles of queues, each leading to, yes, another queue, all designed to funnel you, like a particularly bewildered sheep. It’s reminiscent of the good old Nokia snake game! (Note to self: Must pack the empty water bottle!)

Followed by the security tango. Shoes off, shoes on? Belt on, belt off? Dignity… well, let’s just say it’s temporarily ‘off’ as inevitably, someone, always forgets to take out their liquids, or bag the liquids according to some new rule (read: yes that’s me!) It’s like a tiny, repetitive drama playing out every few minutes. The audible sigh from the staff, the frantic rummaging, the triumphant extraction of a half-full bottle of water as the heat rises the suspense is quite unbearable!

After security comes freezing cold over-priced shopping, sipping and snacking as you saunter towards the gate. There's the predictable "How can I upgrade my seats?" conversations as the staff try to herd passengers promptly. The polite garbled announcement of "We invite passengers in group xyz” is, of course, universally interpreted as a call to stampede "EVERYONE TO THE FRONT AT ONCE, FIGHT FOR OVERHEAD BIN SPACE LIKE IT'S YOUR BIRTHRIGHT!" 

My personal favourite, "Sir, there is a problem with your carry-on, or, are you transporting a small, fully furnished studio apartment?" as the queue grows in length. Ah, boarding! The moment when the human spirit truly shines... or more accurately buckles under the weight of those oversized bags, enormous hats, guitars, duty-free purchases so vast they could furnish a small beach-bar, and the occasional miniature pet carrier (if I’m lucky). And so, after the inevitable checks that cause a delay (of course), there is a brief moment of an exhilarating thrust, and then… the gentle hum as we finally get airborne. 

However, it is a hum that rapidly morphs into a low drone, punctuated by the rustle of snack packs, the toilet door opening and closing, over-head bins opening and closing and the incessant, rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of the drinks trolley. The ‘service’ is, of course, a highlight of any flight. Even if you decline the food you are ensnared in the delicate dance of the flight attendant trying to serve drinks without spilling them down the aisles, attempts at movement at this time is absolutely futile! But perhaps the greatest amusement, comes from our fellow passengers. There’s the persons who cheer and clap when the plane takes off or lands (these are my people! I'm all about the applause. Jamaica wins the gold medal here, every time!) 

Eventually, we will be back on the tarmac, when up springs that one person who is convinced that the moment the wheels touch down, that the emergency exits will open instantly and they’ll be the first off the plane, straight onto the tarmac. 

At disembarkation, that glorious moment of arrival, the chaotic scramble in reverse begins again fuelled by a desperate dash for passport control, and the overwhelming urge to just breathe regular, unpressurised air. Air travel is a beautifully absurd, sometimes slightly stressful, utterly captivating ballet of human behaviour, bad coffee, and the occasional unexpected turbulence. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to start packing…Vegas TomorrowLand here we come!!!