Part 2
Over the years, I have learnt tolerance towards others. I appreciate that my upbringing has brought privilege and insight that many others would be incapable of even dreaming of. On occasion when I venture out to gather refreshments from my local liquor store, I make it a habit to politely nudge past other people at the counter reasoning that their cheap little bottle of plonk requires as much time in that bottle as it can get – my bit to promote wine appreciation and I do see the gratitude on their faces as I leave with my purchases, why else would they all watch me leaving the store with such amazed looks on their faces?
Tolerance is tested today and I look anxiously towards the reception area and the head waiter in an almost hypnotic state with his sordid little fetish with boarding passes, grabbing at them and gesturing with his arm motioning the passengers some where down the back as if he is mentally sorting them for his pleasure later in the flight. My lips are parched so I walk towards him, with my pass and remind him gently about my delicate state. Another flare of the nostrils and I suggest that he not stand so close to the open door as it is clearly not good for him to be breathing those fumes. I note his name as Mr. 6 and plan to speak to the Captain later. I’ve seen Star trek so 10 of 9 or Mr. 6 whatever you like Champagne would be nice.
A nice lass rescues me in the end and introduces herself as Purser Gaylor, a strange name but I figure her parents were from one of those interesting little countries in Africa with equally strange names, struggling to make it on their own after the British decided the weather was too appalling to bother with anymore and moved back to the gentle comforts of home. Purser Gaylor returns with my Champagne and I comfort myself with that and a little Valium.
I find it astonishing that so many people sit in those dreary, cramped seats down the back when there are still plenty of empty seats in my section, perhaps they didn’t notice that they were empty and once more I ponder their sheep like nature and congratulate myself on being so blessed. Finally that head waiter seems to have had enough of those fumes at the door, he’s looking slightly ruffled with a pulsating temple, he glances at me and a moist glow is visible across his brow, to each their own I think but I take precautions and secrete my boarding pass into the secret pocket of my jacket. I’m horrified to find that I had failed to remove the pass from a previous trip and wonder just how much of a “turn on” this would be to him.
Captain Merri’s voice crackles to life over the sound system welcoming us aboard and telling us we will be stopping in Singapore in about 8-hours. I didn’t really appreciate this change of itinerary at first worrying that I hadn’t really packed for the tropics but figured a few hours would not make much difference. I make a mental note to see the Captain later and have a chat about a few things.
The crew were very obviously in the festive spirit and before take-off, Purser Gaylor breaks into a little pantomime act with a life jacket and seatbelt. I found it a little incomprehensible at first and looked furtively at the other passengers to see if they were getting anymore out of it than I. It was then that I noticed other crew members doing the same thing further back in some sort of synchronised routine. I get it now, well sort of and laugh appreciatively at their clever antics and applaud politely in encouragement. I couldn’t help but think the routine would have been more entertaining if they had all stood together when they performed. They would probably have received a much more rousing response from the passengers had they done this. Sure it wasn’t a polished performance but I applauded as loudly as I could, once more congratulating myself that my fortunate upbringing meant I was the only person who understood what they were up to and wondering why others looked so miserable with their lot.
The Captain steers the plane away from the terminal and appears lost as he wanders around the tarmac. I’m a little concerned at this and wonder how on earth he will find Singapore leat alone London. We come to a stop and sit there for a few minutes and I realise that the silly bugger has probably stalled the plane or perhaps he’s just looking at a map. Eventually he moves us forward and he appears to have found a nice long stretch of road and the right direction to Singapore, we roar on down. I chuckle to myself as we pass the terminal again and wonder if the Captain doesn’t feel just a bit foolish.
Things seem to go from bad to worse and once again I find myself thirsty. I tried to keep my Champagne but Purser Gaylor insisted that I had to surrender the glass. I look anxiously for her in the cabin and notice her sitting down on a little seat by the door next to another member of staff – brushing her hair with a hairbrush. Break time already I thought. They have barely started work. I wave at her to gain her attention and I notice her nostrils flare as well. It can’t be good working on an aeroplane if you start getting symptoms like these. I decide to leave her, confident that she will soon change her attitude if left to think for a moment. I glance at the menu and fuss with my arrangement of flowers that I sat next to me on the window ledge. Reverse psychology always works and I knew that once she thought I was no longer interested in getting her attention she would be seeking mine.
In yet another synchronised move the two attendants launch to from their seats and commence drink service.
The other waiter starts to hand out presents of pyjamas and a toilet pack. I notice his name badge, Naïve Dobel, and see a pattern of festive character in his and Captain Merri’s names. I chuckle again and accept the gifts with kindness. A little disappointed that they hadn’t been wrapped, I always like to feel my presents through the wrapping and try to guess what’s inside. Oh well.
It’s interesting to watch adults act like big kids with presents and I notice that many of them are so excited about their pyjamas and other things that they have disappeared somewhere to return decked out as if ready for bed. Odd behaviour I thought as it was barely past noon and luncheon was about to be served. I thought to myself how uncouth they were to be dining with fellow passengers in pyjamas although it did look kind of fun. By now my Champagne and Valium were working magically in unison and my normal sensitivities to such group jollying evaporated and I decided to join in. Grabbing my pyjamas I ventured out to find the change room.
The next cabin I discovered was business class. How odd I thought that people would want to study on an aeroplane when we were all having such fun in the other cabin. To each there own and I asked one of the students what sort of business they were studying today. An incomprehensible mumble about minding my own and I momentarily thought of suggesting a class in manners would be of more benefit to him but I had pyjamas to wear and a party about to happen so I sauntered past up the stairs to the change room where another class was being taken. It’s like a school bus I thought.
Not wanting to attract another comment from these students, many of who looked well beyond study I ask the waiter for directions. He motions me forward saying “…cockpit” as he industriously arranges meals on a tray. It looks like lunchtime kiddies. I saunter forth to the “cockpit”. A commotion reaches my ears from behind and I recognise that pesky character with the boarding pass fetish rushing towards me asking to see mine again. Concerned I quicken my step padding at my secret pocket. I reach the door just as Captain Merri passes through into another door to the side. I lunge forward for the second time today looking over my shoulder as I close the door behind me just in time to see Mr. 6 trip on one of the students notebooks carelessly protruding into the aisle. Tisk, tisk.
I’m starting to feel unsettled once more and thank my good sense in bringing my Champagne with me and I’m sure I have my pills on me somewhere. There’s a nice man sitting looking out the window surrounded by dials. He doesn’t notice me, as he must be listening to music with those headphones on. I think it’s strange that they want me to change in this room but then judging by the cramped confines of this plane I convince myself that there probably isn’t room for such niceties as a change room. I try not to disturb the man looking out the window so I settle my glass on the console and remove my cloths. The pyjamas are fun although I worry about my decision earlier not to wear underwear. The material seems to want to reveal all. I astound myself with my quick thinking and reach for the little tote bag that they came in. I quickly fashion together a rather fetching little waist arrangement with the bag noting that I can place my boarding pass in there. I’m sure Mr. 6 will think twice about grabbing for my groin, at least I hope.
There appears to be some impatient sods waiting outside so I gather my things and open the door to be met by Mr. 6 and Captain Merri both looking ruddy faced and hysterical. I speak curtly to the Captain about Mr. 6’s shenanigans explaining how I can tolerate the peccadillos of others so long as they are in the privacy of their own home. The Captain appears concerned at my report and walks behind me to my seat. I feel safe at this and walk past the students who were watching the scene from their seats. I notice they all see my ingenuity with the tote bag and I thrust my hips forth in my best model walk to accentuate my accessories.