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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/868569-Aeroplane
Rated: E · Fiction · Transportation · #868569
I'm a newbie, please be nice!:) Come with me on a long distance flight...
First of all, there is the initial excitement. I’m boarding a real jumbo-jet! I feel tense, happy, and scared all at once. My heart seems to float at the level somewhere around the base of my neck - oh, the joys of travel! I love everything about the claustrophobic, snake-like tunnel that joins the plane to the airport. I even like the screaming kid racing up and down the tunnel, blindly slamming into adults who then swing round, eyes bulging incredulously, glaring around for the obviously inferior parents at fault. I stroll merrily along, with a bounce in my step, almost laughing with glee. No trivial annoyances can bring me down right now. I reach the entrance to the jet, with a stupid grin on my face.

'Good Morning,' says the flight assistant, high-pitched and brightly, an artificial smile plastered on her face.
'God,' I think, 'She can't have slept for a few solid nights, wonder how much make up she's wearing...'
‘Hi,’ I reply feebly.
'Can I see your ticket, please,' she commands rather than asks me, motioning with her hands. I hand over my boarding pass promptly, still floating on my happy cloud.
'Right, you're seat 48A. If you'll just look through there' - she points through a doorway - 'It's the seventh row down on the right, the window seat.' She pushes the pass back to me, again motioning with her hands for me to get a move on. She seems almost brutally business-like, although her huge smile does not falter slightly. On the contrary, it appears more awfully plain on her face, her whiter-than-white teeth blinding me.
'Enjoy your flight.'
'Thanks.' I hurry away, feeling relieved to escape from the lady.

I reach my row, open the hand luggage compartment and push my backpack inside. I shuffle awkwardly between the rows to my seat. There are several objects piled on it, so I pick them up and put them on the floor, then sit down and look around. The seat is huge, like a giant grey teddy bear locked in embrace. I shift around a bit, making myself more comfortable. I glance in front of me - there is the regular plastic fold out meal table, and a pocket in the back of the seat in front containing a number of magazines and pamphlets, with things like “Aeroplane safety” and “Entertainment” printed on the front. I bend over and pick up the things that had been on my seat. I hold them up one by one, studying them carefully. There is a black eye mask (for when you are feebly attempting to doze off during the flight), a pair of thick navy socks, a navy travel tooth brush and a tiny tube of toothpaste, a thin navy blanket, a navy blow-up neck pillow and a pair of earphones in a sealed plastic bag. While I am examining these things, a man approaches me and asks in a deep growl, 'This is 48B, right?'
I say, 'Yeah…must be. I'm 48A.' He then proceeds to hoist his bag up and shove it in the compartment, grunting all the while. He picks up his blanket and the rest of the stuff, and thrusts them onto the ground. He slumps onto the seat, then makes a final, and obviously significant grunt, of what appears to be satisfaction. I take a quick glance at him and then look down at my lap. It seems futile to attempt a cheerful conversation with this man; I had the feeling that he would probably glare at me accusingly if I began to say 'Hi, my names Georgia, what's your...' so I keep quiet.

I glance around, drumming my fingers on the armrest, searching for something to busy myself with, when I realise the armrest feels bumpy underneath my fingertips. I lower my eyes and discover an array of buttons lined up on the rest. I peer at them curiously; noticing that each button has a little picture on it. These include a light-bulb (and sure enough, when I inspect the ceiling I discover there is a tiny light set into it), a little green symbol of a woman, the numbers from 1 to 8, and two side-by-side with small arrows on them, pointing in opposite directions (presumably volume control). There is also a small square liquid display screen, and on the side of the armrest is a tiny hole. I look back at the earphones in my lap and see that the jack is the same size and presumably fits inside the hole. I lean forward and crane my head around to see that my other fellow passengers are all doing what I have just done. On the other hand, the man next to me is just sitting motionlessly in his seat, scowling defiantly at the back of the chair in front, arms crossed firmly. I turn my head swiftly to the round window and squint out of it, there is not much to see but other similar aeroplanes and workers driving trailers around with their little buggies, and some walking about slowly in the grey morning light, obviously doing various airport jobs.

I turn my head back around, see my headphones again and unwrap the plastic bag carefully. I slowly unravel the thin black cord and insert the jack into the hole in the armrest. I cautiously lift up the headphones and place them over my ears. A classical tune drifts out of them, and the number "6" appears in the liquid display screen. I trace my fingers over the buttons and press "1". Out comes a single voice, talking conversationally. I continue to flick through the channels until I find one suitable for me - a male voice singing with a guitar and various other instruments. I sit there for a while, listening to the song and drumming the rhythm with my fingers on my knee. Then suddenly the music stops, and a new voice comes out of the phones.

The captain begins to explain that that we are about to take off, and to buckle our seatbelts, and the flight assistants show us the safety routine. Finally they stop talking. I sit up in my chair as the plane begins to move, excitement filling me once more. I look out of the window and watch as the plane slowly manoeuvres around and turns into the runway. It pauses momentarily, then begins to accelerate. The feeling is strange, to look outside of the plane and see the fences and buggies and people whizzing past, and then turn around and see everyone sitting calmly in their seats, completely stationery. We reach top speed and finally, I feel the plane’s wheels lose contact with the rough surface of the ground underneath me. The ground begins moving further and further away. I sit back in my seat as the plane tilts upwards and feel my ears block. I hold my nose and blow as hard has I can and I hear them pop.

When we level off, the music comes back on again and I happily continue to listen to it for about half and hour. Then the flight assistants appear at the entrances of the aisles with trolleys of packets and drinks. I watch them as they hand out refreshments to the passengers and slowly work their way down to my row.
'Peanuts?' she asks briskly. It is a different woman this time, though to me all of the flight assistants appear to be very similar, smiling painfully and very orderly. I decide that I don't like them very much.
'Yes, please,' I say, the man beside me merely grunts loudly.
'Here we are.' She hands us small packets.
'What drinks would you like?'
'Coffee,' growls the man.
'Sure.' She swiftly whips out a cup and a coffee plunger, and pours a cup.
'Sugar or milk?'
'No thanks.'
'And you?' She looks expectantly at me. 'What would you like?'
'Um, could I please have a coke?' I ask hesitantly.
'Sure,' she repeats. Just as fast as she poured the coffee, she grabs a plastic cup and a can of coke, thumps them on my table and turns around to the passengers on the other side of the aisle.
I decide to simply drink from the can, I don't want to spill any on my clothes.

The next few hours are all right; the sun seems to race across the sky and it is soon dark. I expect this be because we are flying in the opposite direction of the earth’s rotation. There are some awkward parts of the flight. I have to go to the toilet and squeeze past the grouchy man to get into the aisle, and I keep knocking on the toilet door because it says "vacant" but then an annoyed looking middle aged woman appears from behind it. She scowls at me and makes a point of saying 'Excuse me!’ very loudly and pushing past me abruptly. Dinner is served and I spill my soup onto my lap as the aeroplane jolts suddenly. Other than that it is okay...

But as the flight continues I become progressively more bored, feeling tired but not able to sleep, no matter what position I try, and the man next to me dozes off and snores extremely loudly, making it hard for me to sleep and frustrating me deeply (how come he can go to sleep and I can't?!), my nostrils becomes very dry, babies are continually crying...
I watch the films that come on every now and then on the big screen on the wall, they are all rather stupid and it is nearly more boring to watch them than to sit quietly in my seat, but it is something to do, nevertheless…
I stare out of my window, spotting vague patches of lights where there must be small towns or villages, but the flight assistants continually insist that I close the window and soon we fly into some clouds, so that all I can see is darkness. I slump back into my chair and tilt my head sideways to lean against the side of the chair, attempting to doze off again. My thoughts drift around in my head and my eyes close…

‘…make sure your seatbelt is buckled, the screen is now displaying how to do this...’
‘Huh…wha...’ I open my eyes and discover that my mouth is wide open and I’m drooling onto my shoulder. I sit bolt upright, and stare around to see what is going on. Passengers are slowly shuffling around in their seats, some just waking up, and doing up their seat belts. A flight assistant makes her way down the aisle, leaning over and telling people something. She approaches our row and turns to us.
‘Please fasten your seatbelts, we’re about to land. You need to make your chair upright, as well,’ she looks at me.
I sit up and wipe my eyes groggily, lift up my blanket and reach for the buckles of my seatbelt. Once I have clicked them together, I pull a lever underneath the seat and it straightens immediately, causing me to jump slightly in surprise.

I am too tired to feel excited when the plane tilts down, and I cannot be bothered popping my ears when they block. When we hit the runway with a jolt I give a grunt, very similar to the ones that normally issue from the man sitting next to me. It is a long time before the aeroplane finally ceases moving, and then the passengers around me begin to rise slowly from their seats, reaching up to the luggage compartments. I sigh heavily, feeling relieved that I can finally escape but utterly exhausted from the lack of sleep. As I slowly shuffle along the aisle, I remember how I felt when I was first boarding the plane. I almost giggle at my own naivety. A long distance plane flight is the most boring, time consuming and debilitating experience I have ever had!
© Copyright 2004 Georgia (georgia_nz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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