People on the plane this mirning
Well what excitement!
First up, the bus sent to deliver us to the plane did not fit everyone on. Despite the staff member asking everyone “to move down inside”, the last people could not get on. They were last seen waiting in a neat British queue as our bus left for the plane. I assume the bus returned empty to pick them up.
Next, I am on board and in my seat, already plugged into some music and a paper – which caused me some anxiety. My favourite Sunday paper is now a tabloid and it provokes a strong desire to stand up and announce that it’s not the Daily Mail, honestly. I have more liberal values than that.
But then a commotion. An elderly couple pounce on occupants along my row. It would appear that they have the allocated seats of the elders. Everyone is very British and polite, avoiding any signs of rudeness. The man sits in his free seat, leaving his partner to stand in the aisle blocking any movement. The occupants of her seat begins to collect belongings and engages in a polite conversation. A flight attendant is consulted who takes boarding cards away.
Meanwhile things get more complicated. Another elderly man turns up to claim the seat of the first elderly man. The latter is relaxed in an aristocratic fashion, the new arrival concerned and less self assured. This has to be fixed NOW and he rushes off to flight attendants to seek help.
But it’s all a delightful mistake. The aristocratic elderly couple are in row 31, not 3. They head for the back of the plane, emitting an air of baffled but delightful British eccentricity.
The elderly man 2 then sits down and sets out his stall of an anxious traveller. It’s not the flying that appears to bother him but getting to the right place, getting the right refreshment and all at the right time. No thanks, he will not put his bag in the overhead bin, he wants it at his feet where he can keep an eye on it.
The flight attendant doing the safety demo is engaged in conversation by him, when really she would rather focus on showing us how to do up our safety belts. The man engages the woman between us to work out the time difference in Amsterdam.
We take off. Elderly Man 2 is given his food. Straight away he asks for the coffee, even though the service plan says not yet – food first, drinks second. He eats and drinks. Then goes to the front to engage the purser in some debate. Debate resolved he goes into the toilet. Which when he vacates, closes the door with method, deliberation and firmness – despite someone waiting to use it.
The plane lands and Elderly Man 2 is at the front door before people in business class are out of their seats. He escapes like a ferret out of the door as soon as it is opened. I catch him up spinning in front of an information screen, his hands in the air like a whirling dervish dancer. He overtakes me only to pass him again at the next screen.
And with that, the excitement is over, as I too rush on to queue for the passport check and my next flight. I too am in ferret mode.
We are all different and yet the same.
