On a package charter flight
You would
think that as you get older it would be easy to travel abroad, especially if
you spent a large part of your career travelling internationally.
But it does
not. Why is that?
Well, your
age and your physical and mental resources become somewhat diminished.
Secondly,
travel procedures change. Remember how parking rules change and become
confusing. Well, it's the same with flying, especially if you are on a package
tour.
It starts
the day before travel when you start the challenge of finding your travel gear.
Where are my sunglasses? Do I need my swimming gear in the Canary Islands in
February etc etc.?
You learn
as your memory fails you to assemble everything in one place before packing and
only then start the procedure of packing. What are the travel agent’s rules for
the tour. Well, they're different from ordinary flight booking and check in
procedures. No check-in details, only a booking reference number. But it is all
sorted out at the airport. Passport number and booking reference number, work. Whew,
what a relief! With two artificial knees, progress through security requires
special attention. Off with belts, hope the trousers stay up, off with the
shoes and then the indignity of the standing in a glass machine with your hands
over your head, followed by a body search. So boring.
Once you
have past security there is a sigh of relief. Now we can relax, we are in the hands of the
airline.
Airports
are a great place to observe people, they display a microcosm of society, all
waiting to depart to various parts of the world.
The young
Thai couple who talk in Thai with the waiter, the Asian family that clear their
table and place a tray of discarded food on the trolley. Not something we all
do!
One
noticeable feature is the number of people with small sacks on their back, a
typical feature for Norwegian travellers.
We sit in a
cafe and wait until it happens. “Go to gate!”
Immediate
response. Half the cafe guests rise and saunter over to the departure gate
where seating is at a premium!
We watch
the gate operators keenly as they check and double check the readiness to board
the aircraft. By this time the gate is surrounded by many people clutching boarding
cards and mobile phones with check in details.
Then the
bombshell. We will be boarded by groups A, B and C! We are Group B so expect to
board as the second group, but we were the first because we are in the middle
seating area of the plane.
Onto the
plane with the usual queuing, bumping into people and finding your seat. Sit
down and wait for the public address to announce boarding complete.
Now is the opportunity
to find a vacant seat to be more comfortable by the emergency exits. No such
luck, the flight is fully booked.
Once
airborne, you start to look around you. Babies and children run up and down the
aisles. I had an aisle seat, which I thought was wise because I can get out
without disturbing other passengers in my row. What a mistake!
I was
battered, bumped, hit by trolleys and by people passing down the aisle. Not a
wise choice.
The ordered
warm foods arrive, and it was the signal for others to remove home food from
their packs and start eating. Clearly a reference to charter flight onboard
food!
However, it
was not too bad. Then we all settled down to the remainder of the flight. Noise
cancelling headsets in place. Neck supports inflated and you take up a
recumbent pose. Good. But how do you do that. Some rest their heads on the table,
or they sit upright and try to go to sleep, but not everyone. Sudoku ready, reading
newspapers, watching video, take out knitting, all take people's attention as
we headed South at 35,000 feet to warmer climes.
The flight
attendant announces there is one hour left before arrival. So, the queue for
the toilet starts. Should I join it or wait. Eventually there is a gap in the
queue, and you scurry forward and bounce around from one seat edge to another
as you weave your way down the aisle. When you get in the toilet basin is full
of grey water! Take down your trousers and try to sit on the toilet seat that requires
Houdini like antics. Is it because I've gotten older or am I imagining it?
Finally, you return to your seat, the toilets
ate off limits and the plane descends, and you look out the window and see an
airport full of aircraft. You land. The scramble to get baggage. And finally,
out onto the concours where a lady with a large sign assembles us and lead us
to a bus and we're on our holiday.
A sign says
Welcome to Las Palmas. I think a siesta is what I need!
