Flying home….


Flying home but not for Christmas.
Lone travelling can be a bit rubbish. In fact, it’s rotten.
First flight – few women on it. Lots of suits trying to outdo each other with technology and the biggest watches I have ever seen.
The behaviour that people display when boarding a plane is hilarious. With fewer people checking in luggage, the need to run slimer style from ghostbusters, heid first into the cabin belongs on you’ve been framed! You’ve got a seat folks, calm doon.
No smoking – no e-cigarettes either. That clearly didn’t apply to the woman sitting beside me. Dilemma – do I tell on her? Or do I just pretend I’m sleeping and hope nothing blows up? (So I may have given her the teacher eyebrow – I was prepared to argue the bit …..)
Safety briefing – we should all listen – most people are zoning out and it takes everything in my power not to bring out the teacher voice and tell everyone to pay attention. (And take out their headphones)
Bevvy etiquette – clearly half the plane were choking for a drink – or certainly looked like they needed it. Most gave in and had one.
And then the biggest dilemma for me, ( yes, it really is) what language do I speak? I am on Air France therefore I think I should speak French. However,the people beside me are English speakers, I have already engaged in some pleasant chit-chat and now I am think I may feel like a prize cream cake if I start giving it some bonjour.
Coffee ( café, Merci) magazine time.
Nothing like a magazine from an airline to make you feel fat, ugly and lacking in the watch department. I kid you not when I say I was 20, yes 20 pages on before there was a sentence to read. Advertisements for watches that looked you needed to weight lift them on to your wrists, make up for flawless skin, anti wrinkle serum, and bracelets that quite simply your life would not be complete if you didn’t have.
I was tempted to opt for the drink.
Second flight……
Same as the first. No e-cigarettes so that was good. Just someone who was afraid of flying and a pilot on the other side. Top Gun it was not.
Back to the magazine, more watches, make up and secret scorn for not having flawless skin.
It was my turn to exit the plane slimmer style. Head first.


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