Monday, 30 May 2016
I hate the horrendously long flights we in the Southern Hemisphere are forced to endure every time we opt to go somewhere in the world other than Fiji, Samoa or Australia. I despise every aspect of the endless excursion. I detest those who clamber on board with two or three bulky items of cabin luggage, take up all the overhead locker space and then to add insult to injury proceed to invade my elbow room. I cannot understand why no matter how hard I try, I always seem to be sitting behind the large, noisy male traveler who decides to recline his seat and take his sleeping pill just as the weak, tepid coffee I am yearning for is about to be served. And if he is somehow magically absent for the first twelve hours of the journey, I am invariably placed in front of the undisciplined five year old who plays a game of kicking the back of my seat for several hours or the toddler with sticky fingers intent upon climbing on top of my head, he who only falls asleep as Singapore appears on the horizon. I even detest those who would make friends with me, relate the whole of their life’s story and show me the many photographs of their grandchildren they have stored on their phones. I simply want to sit simmering with discontent composing letters of complaint to the airline in my head. After more than forty years of regular long haul travel I have not as yet adjusted to it. It most definitely brings out the worst in me and I have to try extremely hard not only to refrain from being unpleasant to fellow travelers but also to the helpful airline staff intent upon making my journey as agreeable as possible. The upcoming nightmare is to be twenty eight hours in total and includes several hours meandering Hong Kong airport trying to avoid the bargains. I am definitely not a good traveler.