FLY ME TO THE MOON!

"Did you have a good flight",  I heard my husband ask from the safety of his earthbound flat in London as I arrived back home in Italy.

I had promised myself that I wouldn’t whine yet again about my travails in the air but this one had taken the biscuit.

Talking of biscuits, I think she must have downed at least two family-sized packets!

I hate flying, and I hate flying even more when traveling alone. I need my husband’s arm to bury my nails into every time the driver goes over a bump and the thought that if I am going down then he won’t be left with nobody to grumble about.

The flight began to fill up and having found my aisle seat I see a woman mountain struggling up the aisle knocking unsuspecting passengers right and left back into their seats never to rise again. Before I could say oh heavens I pity the poor people she is going to overflow onto, she turns in my direction.

She is with an Italian mobster who takes up his position at the window and then she proceeds to squash herself between the two arm rests. An engineer will have to be called to straighten them later.

I meanwhile am standing waiting to retake my seat and then to start a lengthy game of “hunt the seatbelt”. You may have guessed where I found it. But after a great deal of effort up close and intimate with a perfect stranger!

In the meantime a couple and four kids under the eight sit in both rows directly behind us. Father opens his laptop and from there on he doesn’t look up but tells his wife to tell the kids to stop throwing their toys at each other and not to draw with felt tipped pens on the fuselage. Wifey takes no notice as she is deep into her glossies and the kids run riot.

My hungry traveling companion has by this time finished her first packet and the crumbs are gathering. The kids start their kicking games and Mobster is woken from his slumber and quietly threatens the rug rats behind him. I wait until it becomes painful and tell their father to do something. Without a beat he tells his Hermes eencrusted wife to tell the children to stop jumping on the seats and put down the laser pen.

Laredo then asks Mobster could get out to pee. Of course he could but why didn’t he go before we left the airport. We are only half an hour into our journey.

We do the seatbelt shuffle again when she returns and instead of going to the window seat and buckling up she plumps !! For the middle again. I quietly wonder how obstreperous is going to get in. You guessed of course.

During the whole flight this woman fished in her vast handbag firstly to seruptitiosly scoff a bag of toffees, next a packet of biscuits and in between to retrieve umpteen wet wipes to mop herself from head to toe. She leaked from every orifice! She cleaned her face, under her armpits, up and and down and places I couldn’t bare to imagine.

I thought it odd but she was very nice in the face of my indifference and bad tempered grunts and constantly apologised for disturbing me. I pretended to be reading and hardly acknowledged her except when I had to stick my hand up her bum to retrieve my safety belt.

The kicking continued and I thought Mobster was going to invade Iran he was so mad and I added my hate of all kids under the age of twenty and we settled down again.

This time Laredo wanted to get something out of the overhead locker. I guessed what it was as I had seen her personal spoon and fork in her handbag!! Tupperware for two is all I have to add.

Once consumed they then both announced a further trip up front!! I kid you not.

She came back, strapped herself in and told me to sit down ad he would be some time!!

More apologies and before I could stop my mouth from working I asked why she hadn’t booked an aisle seat!

She burst into tears. 

It turned out she was an editor on our major newspaper in England and was on her honeymoon!

I felt lower than a snake!