It’s all aboard Air Islamabad as Big Frank and Bettie depart the United States in less-than-luxurious style, all to the melody of a million in-flight announcements.
Bing-bong!
Welcome onboard this Air Islamabad Boeing 777 for Pakistan via London Heathrow. While our In-flight Galley Hags are passing down the aisles with prayer mats and complimentary Qur’ans, please take this moment to open your hearts and minds to the Oneness of Sunni Islam before placing the rest of your body into the upraised hands of our captain…
Lordy, how I hate flying.
To explain: It’s not just the annoying flight attendants, the ceaseless announcements, or the façade of safety while seated in what no one can fail to notice is just a big winged missile with stowage. Yes, it is all those things, but mostly, it’s the indignity of being forced to fly Coach. Husband #2 would have flown me First, but with Big Frank it’s Economy all the way. Of course, it’s not called that here. Oh, no. On this bucket, it’s turn left for Brahmin Class, turn right for the other castes. And us? We’re all the way at the back in the seats marked, ‘Untouchables.’
Bing-bong!
In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen veils will magically descend from the Heavens. First, stop screaming, praise Allah and pull one over your face. If you have a small child travelling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. If you are travelling with two small children, decide now which one you love more...
Yet while I hate air travel for aesthetic reasons, Big Frank just pops open the valium at the merest thought of this whole hanging in mid-air thing. We’re not ten minutes past take-off before he’s asking a passing wagon-dragon: “Isn’t this the same make of airplane you people dive-bombed into the World Trade Centre?” Actually, at the prospect of the next half dozen hours strapped next to him, I realize the real issue I have with flying is his ass doesn’t fit all on one seat.
Bing-bong!
Please be advised that in addition to our selection of hot food and cold beverages, we offer affordable will writing services. And as a special Eid-Ul-Adha promotion, each completed affidavit comes with its very own flame, shrapnel and explosion retardant Black Box, making sure your last wishes have a statistically improved chance of reaching those you tragically leave behind…
Later, after the cart-tarts have sloped up something unidentifiable and curried for dinner, my nearest and dearest breaks away from Jodie Foster’s Beaver and asks: “How long to go?” For like the millionth time.
“Out of eight hours?” I reply. “Six and a half.”
I daren’t tell him that with the combination of the clocks going back at midnight, flying across the International Date Line, and through the Bermuda Triangle, we’re unlikely to get to England this week.
Bing-bong!
As we descend for our approach into London’s Heathrow airport, we hope you enjoyed your totally and utterly alcohol-free flight. And we also hope you enjoyed giving us your business as much as we enjoyed taking you for a ride.
“Thank you for travelling Air Islamabad,” says the beaming dyed-blonde as we shuffle down the ramp. “Apologies for the rough landing.”
“Oh, we landed?” I say, “For a moment there, I was sure we’d been shot down.”
Terminal 3 at Heathrow is even more drab than I remember. Everything’s grey. Still, I had to admit it all perfectly matched the grey everything else outside. After the glitz and rainbow-neoned glamour that was Mesa Palms, England looked like an Ansel Adams Polaroid.
Welcome, diary, to the land of the bland.
