How great are airports? They're a fantastic place to meet and greet people of all colours and creeds.
The other day, flying Gold Coast - Sydney, I had the pleasure of meeting a fellow Sydneysider and her daughter, Mackenzie. Unfortunately, I didn't get the mother's name, so let's just call her Christine.
Let me paint a picture of the situation for you: I've boarded the plane after a pleasant day, ready to rest my wee little head and zone out for the next couple of hours. Shortly after I've been seated, I notice, struggling up the aisle, Christine and Mackenzie. Two larger than life gals with rosy cheeks, Christine gripping a Coke in one hand and Cheezels in the other (but who can blame her? Cheezels are delicious). After struggling to fit their mini-suitcases in the overhead locker, I kindly let them into their respective seats, offering my own seat in case Mackenzie felt uncomfortable at the window. She did not :(
"Are we leaving yet?" whines Mackenzie a mere second after she is seated, then every ten seconds after that. Frustrated, Christine lets out an over-the-top sigh, tells her daughter to shut up, looks at me and says, "I'm sorry about her!"
"Oh, it's quite alright," I say, "planes are an exciting thing for little kids. Even for big kids like me!"
"Not me, I hate flying. Oh God, I really hate flying."
"She hates it! She can't stand flying. Ha ha ha," taunts Mackenzie, poking her head out of the seat to talk to the handsome stranger sitting in 19c.
My initial lack of enthusiasm at what was clearly going to be a disrupted flight quickly dissipated, as I came to the realisation that I would be able to have a little fun with the situation.
"Are we leaving yet?" Mackenzie nagged.
"Shut up, Mackenzie! You bloody asked me two minutes ago! I said 'no' then, so stop asking!" Christine retorted.
"Oh, you'll know when we're leaving," I replied to the child, with a sly wink for added measure.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God... I really hate flying," muttered Christine.
The hard-working staff on the tarmac had just finished loading the baggage onto the plane when, as the door closed, Christine cried, "What the bloody hell was that!?"
"Just the staff making sure the wings are still attached," I reply, excited about the impending take-off.
"Are we leaving yet? Mum? Hey Mum, are we leaving yet...? Mum..."
"MACKENZIE! Yes! We're leaving now! See, we're bloody moving!" exclaimed Christine.
I kept quiet and continued reading an article about Rachel Taylor in the Jetstar magazine (note to self: must watch 'Red Dog').
Mackenzie noisily occupied herself with the window blinds, doing little to disperse Christine's palpable nervous energy. I suggest that perhaps having the blind down, blinding Christine to the outside world, will help reduce her fear. It turns out that it is illegal to keep your blind down during take-off. Fail. I decide to dive deeper into conversation with Christine.
"So, what is it that you hate about flying?" I query. Noting her groan of displeasure at my unintentionally insensitive question, I quickly add, "you know what, don't worry about it. You just breathe and focus on yourself."
We start taxiing down the runway, which is my favourite part of flying: feeling the gravity push you back into your seat. Obviously, Christine did not have the same appreciation for aviation as I did, and remained motionless with anxiety, eyes closed. The initial take-off, when it feels like the whole back half of the plane has gone plummeting back to the ground, makes even a seasoned flyer like myself feel a little queasy at the best of times. Poor Christine. Mackenzie was having fun, though.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God, this is horrible. Argghhhh..." Christine was having a terrible time, especially when the plane began emitting a series of mechanical noises.
"Don't worry, I think that's just the wheels falling off!" I jested. She did not appear comforted by this. Weird.
"Hey Mum, can I use my iPad yet?" Mackenzie asked.
Having obviously made note of my extensive flying experience, Christine bestowed upon me the responsibility of alerting her child as to when she would be allowed to switch on her iPad (to start playing Candy Crush, undoubtedly).
"Not yet; when the seatbelt sign goes off and they announce that you can use electronics, then you may use your iPad," I tell the child.
Mackenzie repeats her questions at one-minute intervals until the light goes off.
Having had my fun, I decide that it is Tim Time and stick my earphones in, excited to listen to a playlist of new tunes I prepared earlier. I thoroughly enjoyed Hayden James' 'Permission To Love', Shining Bird's 'Distant Dreaming' and Robert DeLong's 'Happy'.
As the third song reaches its final bars, Mackenzie loudly informs everyone within earshot that she needs to visit the restroom. Christine immediately panics about her daughter going by herself.
"It's okay," I reassure her, "it's pretty hard to get sucked down the toilet."
We start talking about her family trip to the Gold Coast and I briefly touch on my baby brother's recent first birthday.
"Why would you be so worried about her going to the toilet by herself?" I ask Christine.
"Well she's only five... She's tall for her age"
"Whoa, yeah she's pretty big for a five-year-old!"
It was a poor choice of words given the girl's... physique... But Christine doesn't pick up on my accidental insult.
I am talking to Christine about the benefits of flying as opposed to driving when Mackenzie returns from the bathroom and demands her iPad, which her mother has already carefully packed away. An enormous sigh ensues.
After what seemed like the blink of an eye, the flight attendant informed us that we were about to begin our descent into Sydney and that electronics should be switched off. As she walked away, I noticed a large skin-coloured patch on the back of her neck, barely covering an extensive neck tattoo. I wondered why she would select a career requiring pulled-up hair and no visible tattoos, and which came first: the tattoo or the career?
We started climbing down toward Sydney and Christine exclaimed, "oh Jesus!"
"Jjjeesssuussss Cchrriiissst!" Mackenzie mimicked. Big mistake. Christine scolded Mackenzie for swearing and threatened her with an impressive variety of slaps and grounding if she swore like that again. I was very tempted to point out where the little girl had learnt such language from, but I, unlike Mackenzie, wisely bit my tongue.
The pilot landed the plane roughly, even by my standards. I talked to Christine about the flight and she seemed okay about the whole ordeal. I congratulated her on her courageous effort.
We didn't really talk much as everyone else immediately leapt to their feet and collected their bags, clearly excited about hovering in the aisle for the next five to ten minutes. So, when the time was right, I stood up, got their bags out for them, gathered my own, and we all bid farewell to each other and went on our merry ways.
If the experience taught me anything, it is that you should try to avoid seeing the negative in every situation. Rather, look for a positive, and have fun with it. Life will be much more pleasant.
Edited by April Rose Pengilly
ps. This actually happened, just with a little added colour!
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