Flight to Madrid
It’s a transatlantic flight on an airbus. The water closet is just that... a closet big enough to make three rotating steps in a concise circle. Acrobats and contortionist are the only candidates for the “mile high club”.
..sorry, I was suddenly distracted and launched into a life 40 years ago.
We scored an upgrade to the bulkhead seats from the sweet girl behind the Iberia counter, who took pity on my black and blue self. This is the first benefit from surviving the collision with the wood chipper. A week has passed and still it hurts to shower. Water pressure on this bruised self is just plain painful.
I’ve been told to walk the cabin several times an hour.
As I made my way down the long line of cabin seats to the WC I must have hit the knee caps of 12 sleeping passengers who spilled out from their seats stretching for comfort and then came CRASH...me.
The plane is dark except for the illumination of the independent tv screens on the backs of each seat. “The Showman”, marjong, the air plane moving slowly over the ocean ... “the Shape of Water” all lulling the passengers to a traveling peace.
Then there is that one young mother trying to keep her toddler from screaming and yet her “shushing” is louder than her child. Her frustration is audible. The girl is just wanting to move, to play, to laugh and being forbidden all that fun...she screams. I can totally relate. Mom offers up a breast and for a few sweet silent moments the hummmmm of the engines unites the cabin. The screamer is a toddler and clearly a bright kid because it isn’t long before she realizes that breast has been dry awhile and her chorus of frustration fills our space as if she’s saying to her mother ‘how dare you make a false promise? An unfulfilled suckle? I’m 3 after all , you didn’t think I’d figure it out?”
She’s going to be a sparky grown up if the passengers let her live through this 7.5 hour flight!
Mark occasionally let’s out a Loud swear as he is suffering at video pool. “Damn it”, “robbed, Ive been robbed”...”geezus”...
And I think all our neighbors are Spanish so his out bursts over the screaming child are forgivable. He sighs a heavy sigh and I giggle at him. To which he responds with the stink eye. After all, video golf is serious business when your flying to Madrid.
There is free wine and beer on the flight which I’m certain the screamer has driven the masses to Hoard... seems the handsome Spanish flight attendants are busy passing full mini bottles and collecting empty mini bottles when they are probably supposed to be on break.
I’m sure even the attendants are wishing they could throw a nipple on a bottle of Bordeaux and stop the screeching.
Mark is fully addicted to video pool. The man behind me is snoring in harmony with the toddler while mark drops an occasional curse word and I think... this is how rap or beatboxing got started.