Adventures In Air Travel

So here I am again. In a few days I am to embark on another flight back to the Land Of My Fathers, the heart of my roots, Wales. In a lot of ways I am not looking forward to it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to see my friends, my family, and those myriad drinking establishments that hold so many fond memories for me; it’s the method of transport that I am specifically dreading.
Now, I have travelled to 4 continents and been to many countries all via the wonders of that great 20th century marvel – manned flight. My last job even entailed a certain semi regular amount of internal flying. It used to be so much fun, the thrill of the trip itself, the anticipation of the take off, the free drinks that allowed me to travel in a vague stupor and the often fascinating banter I could engage in with my fellow travelers.
It WAS all good.. but over the past few years the experience has soured greatly. It’s not that I have just become more accustomed to flying, but between the airlines, the FAA, and the cabin crew; ALL the fun has been lost. If you know me, you’ll know that I am a guy who likes to have fun. A guy who likes to engage strangers, learn about them, make them and myself laugh and so forth. Alas, this is getting harder and harder to achieve.
Now I am subjected to inspection and suspicion and herded around like abattoir stock, surrounded by gloomy and often clearly nervous members of the public who rather insanely insist on trying to bring their entire life contents in wheelie cases on an already cramped plane. I have never understood that, check your bags or travel light! It isn’t hard to do! I mean really.. do you REALLY have to take everything? How come I have to wait sandwiched between already irritable boarders while you struggle to squeeze your over weight baggage into a space designed only for newspapers and toothpicks?
To add insult to injury, after you’re seated, the stewardesses will come and peer at you with a thinly veiled look of mistrust – to see if you are doing anything wrong or if you could be some potential threat!
What happened to “the angels of the skyways”! It’s hard to a get a genuine smile out of some of these uniformed harridans as you are routinely scolded like naughty children or forced to contort your already cramped body into impossible shapes to accommodate your neighbouring passenger. Quite often I find myself sat in pose reminiscent of a shocked Velociraptor; arms drawn into my ribs, hands clawed and pointed back at my knees which are drawn almost into my torso due to the lack of leg room. Maintaining that uneasy corporal rictus becomes even more difficult when, after 10,000 feet, the person in front of you decides to try to make their seat into a bed by leaning back as far as possible which inevitably means that I am pinned into my seat at neck level with the threat of my tray coming loose and decapitating me with one easy movement.
Yes, my friends, it isn’t as much fun as it used to be. These things are found only in coach class of course. I have travelled in first class a few times where the air is cooler, the drinks are larger (and free) and you actually get almost enough space to relax without having to play elbow hockey with your neighbor. I still find that there is little to celebrate overall about the first class cabin, but it is at least tolerable and one can understand why sometimes, when you are boarding, the first class passengers will avoid your eyes – for they know only too well the horrors you are about to encounter and they often try not to convey the absolute smugness of their happy lot.
I must add though, that air travel has caused me some for the great travel nightmares of my life and there have been so many. You see, for some odd reason, I do appear to have been cursed with every kind of bad luck when it comes to flying – I have endured humiliations and scares that I think would be enough for a thousand lifetimes! What’s that you say? “Oh now sir, you exaggerate!!!” Really? You think so eh?
Let me give you an example of these horrors;-
About 12 years ago, I had myself booked onto a rather convoluted flight back to the UK which involved flying from West Palm Beach to Detroit and then onto Amsterdam before a final flight to dear old Blighty. I believe the main reason for such an arduous passage was imply economics at the time and, as it was pre 911, the herding and overcrowding was certainly less than at present times.
As I may said before, I like to travel light. I stuff everything into one case and check it, and hope in vain that it will arrive at the same final destination as myself. On this particular occasion, I decided to go one step further, and apart from one leather jacket, some deodorant, my passport and a few dollars (I even packed my wallet into said luggage), I boarded the plane with as little trappings as I could.
I settled happily into my usual spot at the very rear of the plane next to the rear toilets thereby avoiding any unnecessary queuing should the need arise and waited for our imminent departure to the frozen north of mid winter Detroit. I waited and waited.. and waited. A mere hour and a half passed by before a clearly chastened member of the cabin crew let us know that indeed we were in the midst of a delay and that it may be yet another hour before we could finally make our way to Motor City. In the meantime, he said, he was going to entertain us with an impromptu quiz and some magic tricks!!
Yes, indeedy! He proved to be a man of his word, although given the mood of the passengers, I cannot fault his nervous delivery and the trembling sleight of hand.
At last, we were given the all clear to leave and we raced into the night air with the promise from the captain that we would be getting there as fast as he was able to make it. I knew that I had an hour of two of layover between this flight and the next one from Detroit to Amsterdam but my watch told me that it was going to be close..very close indeed given the length of our delay. I re read my second boarding pass to ascertain which gate I had to get to, and was reassured by our the cabin crew that all would be well and, as I was mysteriously the only person on board who had a connecting flight, that they would ensure that I would not have far to go to make the next stage of my journey. Take heart they said. Relax. Enjoy the flight. Ah.. the folly of youth…..
We hit the tarmac at Detroit with a force that I really thought was going to launch me out of my seat, belt and all through the ceiling of the aircraft and I was mildly surprised that the undercarriage was not immediately sharing the cabin space with me in that instant. The other passengers rather kindly allowed me to scramble from my seat and out of the plane like a man on fire and I raced out into the terminal only to hear the voice over the PA system calling MY name for final boarding onto the next flight. I looked around helplessly, and my eyes found salvation in the person of an overweight but obviously available cart driver. “I need to get to the Amsterdam flight now. They’re calling me!” I screamed.
The driver oozed into action and we were off at the breathtaking speed of 5 miles an hour weaving through the remnants of other incomers of the last flights in that night. I gave him the gate where the flight was to depart and sure enough we arrived there as they were announcing my very last chance to board.
Unfortunately, the flight i wanted was no longer there but had been switched at the last minute and was actually in another part of the airport. Cursing my bad fortune, I leapt from the cart and made off in the general direction of where the correct gate actually was. Several minutes later I arrived, laced in sweat and gasping for breath waving my ticket vainly at the bemused gate staff.
I was too late. The plane had gone without me. I crumpled into a dejected, breathless heap and uttered phrases that would even shame the most hardened sailor. I may even have invented a few new ones. Never mind, I was told, it’s our fault that you were late, we’ll put you up here at a nearby hotel and you can have the very first flight out in the morning! We’ll even give you a meal voucher so you can eat on us! Whoopee! So, I enquire, how do I get to said hotel? Easy, they say, just go downstairs to the baggage claim and there’s a call booth for each hotel. Just press the button, tell them who you are and they will come and get you. OK. Sounds fairly easy. So, forlornly, I made my way down to the baggage claim and looked for said item of communication. I found the device in question and pressed the button next to the hotel they had assigned me….. nothing! I pressed it again. Still nothing. A voice from above calmly informed me that the airport was closing for the night in about 20 minutes. Closing? I didn’t realise they actually closed and threw everybody out but that was exactly what was going to be happening.
My usual veil of optimism was starting to elude me as I was trying to fight an attack of absolute despair. I pressed the damn button again and at last a bored voice answered. Yes, they would pick me up outside the baggage clam in about 20 mins, I just had to look out for the bus. So, out I went. It was bloody freezing! There was an inch or two of dirty, slushy snow rapidly turning into Detroit ice outside the pick up area. I hadn’t smoked at this time for about 10 years but I was suddenly possessed of an overwhelming desire to smoke until I was so full of tar that you could use my body as an alternative road surface. Thankfully a man standing just a few yards away, who was dressed in enough gear to start a polar expedition, had a cigarette burning away. A quick exchange of pleasantries later I was the proud owner of not only two cigarettes but matches as well1 Joy!
Half an hour passed, and still no bus. A security guard eventually helped me out by calling the hotel to see what had happened. For some reason they thought I had already been collected. No, I explained as calmly as I could, that was not the case. I was in fact still outside the airport in freezing temperatures wearing some very light attire for the present climate. Hold on, deep apologies, coming right now they tell me. And Lo! So they did, after another 25 minutes during which time I had begun to lose my sense of feeling in most areas of my face and all my extremities.
So I get to the hotel finally and I am so tired and cold that I could barely muster up the energy to talk to the guy at the desk. I look at my watch, it’s past 3 am and I have to be up and back at the airport by 10.
Owing to my lack of money due to stupidly packing my wallet in my case (which incidentally HAD remarkably made the flight), I was forced to make a reverse charge call to my folks in Wales to let them know that I would not be at the airport in Cardiff at the agreed upon hour and that I would be somewhat late.

As I hit the bed, I realised that I was a little thirsty but found myself too weary to leave the room and look for a vending machine. What to do? Well there’s always the bathroom sink.. water is water right? I gulped down three little plastic cups of mediocre tasting water but to my beleaguered body it was as good as the finest mineral juice!

I woke up feeling a little odd at around 9am and decided to skip the much vaunted free breakfast on offer and instead get the shuttle to the airport and wait. I wasn’t about to miss another flight! I made it to the terminal, checked in and settled down to a mere hours wait until boarding commenced. This was it! Finally I was going to get out of this frozen wasteland and be on my way. The rest of the departure lounge was suitably crowded and all was serene… and then it my stomach started to gurgle and lurch very alarmingly. The grumbling was loud enough to attract the attention of the guy sitting next to me who was reading a paper. I gave him my best humble grin and tightly folded my arms across my stomach in the hope of stemming some of the noise.
Within a few minutes of this self squeezing I began to have the irresistible urge to break wind. Hmmm.. never good to let rip when surrounded within a reasonably enclosed space methinks, – so I thought that I may employ some extra muscular control and sort of ease a tiny bit of pressure out without drawing any more attention.
So I set my jaw, narrowed my eyes and pushed as subtly as I could. Just a little bit, I thought, just enough to ease the pressure, no one will know, it’ll be quiet, unobtrusive.
Unfortunately for me, it was anything but!
You have no idea of the feeling of total horror that overcame me as the mere hint of a push produced an uncomfortably familiar wet, warm feeling in the seat of my jeans. I quickly realised that the flow was not stopping despite my rapid squirming to try to halt the spread of the warmth. I think I must have gone very pale indeed as utter despair ran into the departure lounge and slapped me squarely on the face.

For a few seconds all I could do was sit very still indeed and try to assimilate what had just happened. I tried very hard to will myself into believing that it was all some terrible hallucination, a cruel trick played upon my exhausted senses – but no, for soon after, a growing aroma joined the party of sensation and I knew I was well and truly doomed.
The man next to me, started to sniff the air and also his paper before settling his puzzled gaze upon my sad and now perfectly motionless figure.
All I could do was smile rather pathetically at him. I couldn’t even find any words to say in my defence.
By now, I was pretty certain without looking that I had extra material at least as far as the backs of my thighs. How was I going to deal with this? I carefully extricated myself from my jacket and as deftly as I could, tied it around my waist without even getting up out of the chair.

Every thought screamed for flight as far away as possible but I was quite certain that any sudden movement would unleash further fury, so like a mannequin that has just discovered life, I awkwardly and very slowly rose to my feet and half limped and half stumbled out of the departure lounge for the nearest toilet. Now at this point, you’d think that fate had done enough to me but no, for there was better to come as I discovered the first set of bathrooms were OUT OF ORDER and sealed off! So there I am in the middle of hordes of people, one had pressed against my backside, the other gesticulating wildly as if to help my eyes find another restroom sign. I must have looked insane! I staggered very slowly to the next set of toilets which were certainly not as close as they had seemed only to discover a large and long line of men waiting to avail themselves of the same facilities due to the others being out of use.

My heart which was already pretty low, sank to the ground with an almost audible thud. I had no choice but to join the line and wait, all the while smiling weakly as the foul stench that pervaded my space wafted gently toward anyone within a few inches of me. It was at this point that I discovered that there is no limit to how embarrassed one can feel. If someone could have opened up a bottomless pit below me, I would have happily jumped into it.
After what seemed an eternity later.. I finally had a cubicle where I could inspect the damage and evacuate whatever else was now attempting to bypass the little bodily control I had left. I must have sounded like I was dying because at least two patrons knocked on the door to ask if everything was okay. I wanted to tell them that, no, things were bloody well not okay but all I could muster was some pathetic groaning and gurgling. You have no idea, dear reader of the foulness of the interior of that cubicle by the time I had safely divested myself of my problem.. safe to say that if I had to be the janitor of that establishment, I would have set fire to the whole thing and walked away.
I sat there for a moment, still taking stock of the situation. My underwear was a complete disaster area and my jeans had acquired an unwelcome palomino pattern from the seat of the pants to the mid section of the back of the thigh area. Under better circumstances, one would suppose that a fresh pair of pants would be n order but no, these were not better circumstances and I had stupidly sent my methods of purchase to Holland.. so what to do?
Several rounds of toilet paper later, some discarded and tarnished underwear cast aside, I emptied the deodorant I still had onto every last stitch of clothing I wore and sheepishly left the cubicle trying hard to avoid the stares of the other occupants. I made my way gingerly back to the departure lounge only to find the flight already boarding. I got into line all the time aware that I now smelled like a perfumed turd.
As I reached the gate, one of the crew informed me cheerily that I had been upgraded to First Class to make up for the hassle they had put me through. If only they knew!
Now, as I said before, First Class is great, more room etc etc.. but when you are wearing freshly manured clothes and smell of poop and perfume in equal measure, it is the worst place to find oneself. I found myself sat next to a nice but very posh Swiss Doctor who could barely hide his displeasure at finding himself sat next to my stinky ass for 9 long hours.

It was not a journey I shall ever forget as I stayed awake & very still in my seat the entire flight for fear of a repeat performance from my bowels.
It was with great relief that I finally got to Schipol airport but that relief was short lived indeed as I was then informed that due to my very late arrival, they had no seat on any of the next 5 outgoing flights to Cardiff and I would have to wait until there was one. So wait I did, for another 6 hours, slowly stewing in my decay and wondering of this was what hell must be like!
The short journey to Cardiff was in a plane only big enough to carry 16 people, it was the final nail in the coffin of my utter humiliation as the rest of the passengers coughed and made barely hidden gagging sounds the whole way there. I could have beaten the Pope for a bit of ground kissing when I got to Welsh soil once more.
My father, who gamely waited for me the entire time, took one look at me, and shook his head. All I could do was smile very weakly and ask to go to the nearest clothing store.

There ends one of my many tales of travel woe.. worse things have happened to me but for utter shame that one stands atop the rest!