Of people and dogs
February 4, 2011. My first trip overseas, alone. So at O.R. Tambo I had my last Fournos coffee and milk tart for 6 months. Mmmm, so good. Besides, it was all I could stomach at that point in time.
Most people hate flying, particularly the take off and landing. These are the only two parts that I actually enjoy. I love the feeling of being pushed back in the tiny seat, seeing the airport buildings flashing by, faster, faster, and then, aaaah, we are in the sky, the world getting smaller below us. Bliss. And then at the end of it all, waiting to feel how softly the pilot can place the massive plane on the runway again. Amazing.
But then there is the bit in the middle. The 19 hours between exhilaration and bliss. I board the plane with a truckload of saggy bottom ladies heading back to the US after a “safari”. Ladies, please note that the isles are very narrow, and when you bend down, your bums in bad jeans are in my face.
It is also here where I realized again why I do not like people or dogs: they smell. I believe it is my good friend Monique who said "I'm tired of these mother hucking farters on this mother hucking plane". Wow, I think that is what keeps planes in the sky, all the gas.
I specifically booked an isle seat in the middle block in the middle of the plane: very stable, not to far from the lavatory, and if someone were to sit next to me, there would be a person on his right side to talk to when I anti-socially hook up to my iPod. Lucky for me I did not have a neighbour at all. So I managed to contort my body and rest my head on the next door dinner tray, getting some shut eye for a couple of hours. Until the small child from Dakar started crying exactly like an 80s crying doll. WHEEeeee e e e e.