(The diary notes of a lonely guy aboard a flight to a workshop).
Today I fly to a city in which I am planning to have my honeymoon vacation in a few weeks. As I was not sure if I would meet anyone I knew who would be attending the same workshop as me, I took along one of those unread EBONY magazines (yes, I read only Ebony, Charisma, Time, Newsweek and Reader’s Digest) to keep my mind busy during the flight. As I perused, my interest was drawn into an American-authored article recounting a holiday trip to Japan. Hence I have just picked up my diary from my hand luggage to write my own fleeting thoughts down:
First, I write about my envy for those sitting around me. They seem like a group of workplace colleagues going for a workshop of their own. With a lot of teases across the aisle and palm-slapping going on, there is evident excitement and familiarity in their converse. For whatever reason, I have never flown in the company of my colleagues, friends or family. I have always had to chat with the passenger sitting by me and those acquaintances have never gone beyond the Airport. This included a Flight Marshall once (when I sat on the front seat). When he found out I am a Nigerian Doctor, he was so excited in telling me how he has been desirous of exporting some chemical products to Nigeria. I never sit on the front row ever since.
What is the medical term for those popping sounds from one’s ears when a flight is in high altitude? Once again I have just had one of those and it has drifted my thoughts to which part of flying people find scary. I usually say a quiet prayer before take-off and then focus my thoughts on the things I would be doing at the other end of the flight. So far, it has been so good. I pray it remains so.
Since I checked in early, I asked for a window seat (those e-tickets do not come with seat numbers). I have always enjoyed the view of the city below. If it is in the day, it looks like a golf course; at night it feels like one is indeed in an orbit within the Milkway, lost in a sea of stars. It is sunny today and that means I don’t get to swirl in cumulus clouds. I am travelling from one coastal city to another and from my window; I see the coastal line all the way. How does the pilot keep the coastal line in view like it is a perfect straight line and we were travelling parallel to it?
My thoughts are interrupted by an almost elderly male steward thrusting a snack box and drink towards me. I caution myself from whatever slighting thoughts I may have towards him. Of course, flight attendants come more as pretty, slim, accented, cat-walking females. I take a sip of water and let my face contort into a grimace at the thought that I am actually writing this down, no thanks to my immediate elder sister. Yes, because I picked up this writing thing from her during High School. Speaking of which today is the birthday of another of my sisters and as much as I wanted to call her earlier, I could not because I was obsessed with making sure all my electrical sockets were switched off, all taps closed and all doors locked before I left for the Airport.
Postscript: Strange enough, after the flight, I got to the waiting lounge of the Airport and the driver of the shuttle taking me to the hotel had a list of names on his raised card board; the first being the name of one of my sisters. What a world!
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