The ritual of the airport still numbed his mind after all this time. Here we go again played a
loop inside his head. But this flight edged his normal tetchiness towards anger. They had
overbooked Business Class and here he was inching his way forward towards the zoo of
Economy Class with the other cattle. He seethed.
The girl in front of him constantly fiddled with her hair. He wished she would stop it. Her nervousness prickled him. She turned round as if aware of his irritation and attempted a smile, but it faded when she saw the depth of his frown. She snapped round again and stared ahead. The queue was taking forever to reach the plane door and the dimly lit safety of its cabin.
He thought of the journey ahead. Thirteen hours in a tiny seat. He knew his frame would jam into it. Thirteen hours of cramp. No peace. Noisy kids, stupid mothers, fidgeting lads who selfishly pitched their seats right back to trap him and then fell asleep for hours with loud snoring as a bonus.
She felt his anger on the back of her neck. No creepy breath or close sweaty warmth, just anger bordering on rage. He could snap at any minute she thought.The plane door approached, the smiling Malaysian faces of the stewardesses doing their best to reassure their guests.
Once inside the cabin he saw a sea of faces in hundreds of seats. A stewardess took his Boarding Card and pointed to his. He put his bag into the overhead locker and sat down with a disgruntled sigh, the seat arms already digging into sides painfully. He glanced to his right. There was the hair fiddling girl from the queue who, realising her bad luck, was staring straight ahead at the back of the seat in front. This journey was going to be hell they both thought.
The girl in front of him constantly fiddled with her hair. He wished she would stop it. Her nervousness prickled him. She turned round as if aware of his irritation and attempted a smile, but it faded when she saw the depth of his frown. She snapped round again and stared ahead. The queue was taking forever to reach the plane door and the dimly lit safety of its cabin.
He thought of the journey ahead. Thirteen hours in a tiny seat. He knew his frame would jam into it. Thirteen hours of cramp. No peace. Noisy kids, stupid mothers, fidgeting lads who selfishly pitched their seats right back to trap him and then fell asleep for hours with loud snoring as a bonus.
She felt his anger on the back of her neck. No creepy breath or close sweaty warmth, just anger bordering on rage. He could snap at any minute she thought.The plane door approached, the smiling Malaysian faces of the stewardesses doing their best to reassure their guests.
Once inside the cabin he saw a sea of faces in hundreds of seats. A stewardess took his Boarding Card and pointed to his. He put his bag into the overhead locker and sat down with a disgruntled sigh, the seat arms already digging into sides painfully. He glanced to his right. There was the hair fiddling girl from the queue who, realising her bad luck, was staring straight ahead at the back of the seat in front. This journey was going to be hell they both thought.
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