Long haul flights, especially the ones from Singapore to London on an A380 are an experience of a lifetime and if you are one of the privileged ones to have been on one of them, it leaves you with one Terabyte of information of “close encounters with the “special kind”.
Choosing a seat months in advance is vital to watch the ‘circus’ that unfolds every time, just like the movie theatre, you have to make sure that there are an uninterrupted view and enough of leg space, you don’t want a hyperactive Homosapien, rocking his seat to and fro, like a see-saw in front of you, just checking if the controls are working well or not or I am sure you won’t like you glass of wine or food making a Batik of your designer clothes.
Once the seat belts are out of the way, your luggage stowed in the overhead compartment, your mind at peace, the only thing you pray for is, God please don’t let a ‘crazed alien” sit next to me, it could make or break your flight. As the passengers slowly snake their way in a regimented fashion, kids jumping from seat to seat since its entertainment unplugged for them, a clean chit from the parents to make a “mess of the most” since pretty looking attendants would be still smiling cleaning up the aftermath, I wish the world functioned as it does aboard an aircraft. Generally, you don’t see an unhappy or an authoritative “aunty hostess” who was commissioned when the Wright Brothers invented the Glider, travel by Air India or British Airways and you will see the difference, where the girth and weight of the air hostess, tilts the aircraft on one side if a couple of them are having a briefing aboard the aircraft, or when you press the assistance bell, you are met with a stern-looking “madam” who threatens you with,” I am busy right now” and shoots Scud missiles through her eyes, you are reminded of your Math’s teacher who did permanent psychological damage with her punishments, you squirm and sink deeper into your seat, literally apologizing for pressing the ‘Wrong button”. I once remember an “Aunty hostess “serving us aboard a British Airways flight from London, the delayed flight had us glued in our seats for hours before the take-off, the air conditioning was minimized to save fuel, promptly the “flying aunties” opened the rear doors of the aircraft to let fresh cold air in much to the amusements of the passengers, the ‘wind in the willows’ could be heard yonder.
The “party starts” with the plane cruising at 40,000 feet above sea level and the ding dong bell to take off the seat belts is an all-clear sign for full-fledged mayhem, everyone’s smiling except for the air hostesses. Restroom is the hot spot, little enclaves have formed of various communities, a group of youngsters has dug into their seats, shoes off TV screens blaring with glasses of Scotch and ice dancing to their tunes, small snacks on the tables, one forgets for a moment if this lad is in his village or aboard the high tech aircraft. The drinks trolley empties fast, the finest Scotch quickly becomes the rarest, some passengers are already cruising higher than the space shuttle with a satiated look on their faces.
There is a lull after the storm, one wonders what”s wrong, a quick calculation, the food is awaited, a bored naughty old man steals glances at the young, attractive hostess, careful that his wife is not watching. Without a drum and roll, the food trolley is rolled out, the menu can be sniffed in the air, fresh coffee, buns, rice its all there and I don’t have to see the menu card to decide, the Morse Code of food has done the magic. The attractively packaged food calms many a soul,two ‘warring passengers’ reach a momentary truce that food has brought in. A ‘VIP” in the Cattle Class makes an air hostess lose extra calories by demanding a business class experience, the children prancing around him, complete his experience.
A few hours into the flight, the dramatic mode’ has changed to that of ‘nap mode’ and over the drone of the Rolls Royce engines the snores of passengers endorses the great service on board, save for a few flashing screens and the ghostly shadows of the hostesses walking around the “hurricane” has passed.
Fasten your seat belts, the plane is about to land the Captain announces, everyone braces for the touchdown, in this short while relationships have formed, contacts exchanged, business deals done, children have updated this database of the movies watched, hundreds of pegs of Scotch downed, until it all starts all over again.