I can’t be the only one that despises anything related to the oh so famous metal bird. The idea of flying sends a little chill down my spine and not for the reason you might think. I’m perfectly okay with the actual flying part and in these last two years I’ve racked up quite a large amount of hours in the air. If only my experience in the machine was pleasant.
I was 19 years old when I flew for the very first time. The experience was new and aside from the fact that the gentleman seated in front of me took a bunch of pills which set a panic throughout the flight attendants. I must say it sure beat the entertainment system, I mean someone was being slapped through the face by a bunch of people. This was also the time I learned the hard way that taking the window seat doesn’t go well.
My fourth flight is the one that takes the candle as my worst airplane flight to date. It was my flight back to South Africa (from the Netherlands) after my tourist VISA (90 days) expired. I was emotional about leaving so that didn’t help. Two connecting flights. The first one took an entire hour to leave the damn airport. The air felt so stuffy. I was trying my best to stay patient and ignore the frustrating co-flyers but my patience level dropped steadily. Not enough to take it out on poor mothers and fathers trying their utmost best to entertain their children but enough to grow a fierce headache. All good so far right? A hour delay? That’s nothing. Oh I’m getting to the good part.
I’ve already mentioned the hour delay so I will jump right to the part that makes my teeth clench from actual physical pain. There was two hours in between my flights and not a lot of time to spare. If you’re a frequent flyer the chance that you’ve been to this airport is very high. Doha. Dubai. If you have yet to experience the luxury that is this airport to break it down its massive. Think of the biggest shopping mall or theme park you’ve ever seen and then triple that size. My two flights were literally at the opposite ends. I was so close to my boarding gate when it happened. Sorry I got to add some mystery here and really build the entire thing up. It’s a big deal to me.
Someone called: “Cassandra!” Cassandra being my name and the chance that there was another Cassandra in the airport, in the exact location I was at 2am in the morning is so small I responded to my name in a panic. Now you got to know I was mid run (trying to find and get to my gate in time) and carrying a shit ton of weight on my one side. The beloved laptop that I’m using to write this very blog. With all my important documents in the mix my laptop bag weights over 10kg. The weight is not that important but just the action I took when I heard my name. I turned to the voice so quick, I got whiplash. Whiplash alone is nothing pleasant but the weight threw things off even more. A horrible snap sound followed and a blaring pain shot through my entire body. The pain so intense I nearly screamed like a little girl and dropped my laptop. The searing pain made it unbearable to even lift my arms or move a inch. The last thing I wanted to do was fly for 9 hours.
Believe it or not, it gets worse. I got the middle seat. It doesn’t sound so bad right? I was in between two very large men that filled up my seat two and because I honestly didn’t want to share my personal space with these two strangers I tried my very best to make myself a thin as possible. This might come across as rude, but I want you to know I don’t mean it like that. I’ve been seated next to a little girl that barely filled her seat but was constantly in my seat with her toys. I also didn’t enjoy that experience. Okay now that we got that behind us let’s get to the part that actually made my entire trip worse.
These two men fell asleep on me. This could happen to the best of us I’m sure but it didn’t make my flight better to put it nicely. I tensed up which didn’t do my shoulder and neck any wonders after the injury. I had to fight the urge to cry from the pain shooting through my system. Oh but wait. It gets worse. Like seriously, how could it get worse? I mean just how much can a girl take before she cracks? I will answer that question at the end.
So I’ve mentioned the two men next to me and their complete disregard of my personal bubble. They also felt the great desire to strike up a conversation. Something I’m surprisingly not okay with. I love meeting new people but please don’t try to share your entire life story while I’m fighting the urge to throw up. My mother didn’t raise a twat so I friendly replied but kept the conversation brief. Again, these men disregarded my wishes. Before I could stop them, they whipped out their phones and proceeded to take pictures of me without my permission. At this point, I nearly lost it.
I can’t tell you why I never complained. To be honest I didn’t think I could. It was my fourth flight. I genuinely didn’t want to step on any toes. The flight however did manage to come to an end. Now, to answer the question: How much can a girl take before she cracks? It was landing. It dawned on me that it will be months before I see my loved one. It just made everything oh so much worse.