While reading the posts in this topic, I often have little useful to contribute.

I’m an experience guy, not a ‘stuff’ guy, so don’t keep a lot of ephemera from my flights. My walls are not papered with upgrade coupons, my floor is not carpeted by boarding passes, my pantry is devoid of a plethora of Kit Kats, and I don’t have a fridge stuffed with even a single 250 240ml branded water bottle. But I do have one throwback moment that I would like to toss into the record - a minor Christmas miracle.

It was at the end of one of my usual multi-week overseas busines trips comprising n countries in n+2 days. To be more precise, I know it was Christmas Eve, and I know I was flying in AC J from LHR to YYZ and then onwards to my then base in YXE. I think it was 1989 or 90 and I believe I was flying on a B747. I may have been upstairs but am not really sure. But the rest I remember very, very clearly.

After the initial climb out and the usual announcements, menu and newspaper deliveries, the cabin crew came round with our drinks and nuts (the good ones). And then they all disappeared to the front of cabin and huddled for a few minutes. I figured it was the usual pre-service coordination session. But one of the FAs then broke free and, facing us, tentatively walked a few steps into the cabin and stopped. She looked a little nervous but stood there long enough to make eye contact with those of us paying attention. And then she proceeded to beautifully sing “O Tannenbaum” (in German) to the whole cabin. And it was glorious!

All noise on the aircraft seemed to fade into the background. Conversations ceased, newspapers stopped rustling and every eye in the cabin was upon her. We were transfixed. Mesmerized. In awe even.

When she had finished her song, there was another slight pause as we all caught our breath followed by riotous applause, whistling and even a “Bravo!” or two. She was beaming. I was beaming. We were all beaming at each other in the shared experience. And then she turned around and, after many hugs from her fellow crew members (and at least one person from the cockpit), the pack of FAs dispersed and service gradually resumed back to ‘normal’.

I made an effort to seek her out mid-flight to thank her and to ask her if this was a regular Xmas ‘thing’ – it wasn’t. While waiting to board, she had told the gaggle of assembled cabin / flight crew that she was concerned about being too tired to perform her normal gig as a soloist in her church choir during midnight mass (She was not only professionally trained, but also sang in one of the opera companies in Toronto.). One thing led to another and her colleagues goaded her to “sing something Christmassy” on board.

I did get her name but promptly forgot it. Over the subsequent years I’ve taken several Christmas Eve flights, most out of LHR, and am always slightly disappointed that lightning hasn’t yet struck twice. But as I sit here in my gilded COVID cage, feeling a bit subdued and not going anywhere, let alone flying, even just writing about this brings back feelings that warm the cockles of my cold, black heart.

Maybe next year. Maybe never. But it’s something to look forward to.