Only Birds And Idiots

Chatty's picture

Get a grip of yourself. It's only a plane, millions of people fly every year. Sounds good, but tell that to those impaled into various mountains, deserts and sea beds. There's only one thing that will calm me down. Alcohol. Sadly the nearest booze is stashed away in a Boeing 707 parked at Heathrow. We climb on the bus, "Yorkie" frantically trying to calm me down. More chance of winning the pools. Without going into too many details, by the time we reached the airport, a certain part of my anatomy had consumed most of the bus seat. I hoped it wouldn't make too much difference to my baggage allowance. Into the reception, weigh our baggage, the only "weigh" I was looking for was a way out. Trapped, no escape, would I see the 18 April or would I be just another statistic? After all the bags were gone, and I'd finished chewing on the scales, the next task was to drag my unwilling body through into the Departure lounge. "There it is Chatty" says my so called mate. I follow his finger. Cold shivers, there it is. Tons of aluminium waiting to devour me and stuff me head first into the Atlantic. I must have seemed eager as I positioned myself as close to the door to the plane as was possible. Not eager, but desperate. If anyone was going to get the escape door over the wing it was going to be me. Sadly that's not the way it works, you go where you're told. If they'd known the state I was in they would never have risked putting me anywhere near an aircraft. I was no more than a terrorist bomb wrapped in pink skin. I could have gone off at any moment. PING. "Would the passengers on B.O.A.C Flight ???? (can't remember everything) to New York please prepare to board". If I could have reached those loud speakers I would have torn them off the wall. The inevitable had arrived. 20 years old, leading contender for a cardiac arrest, due to meet my maker. Why oh why did I ever utter those fateful words "Gizza posting?" Too late, caught in the flow, edging closer to my doom. I wasn't sweating, I was dissolving. Each step was accompanied by the sound of waves crashing on the beach. Big Brave Squaddie. Who's kidding who? Before I knew it I was in the intestines of this American built killing machine, no escape, soon to be strapped into a chair. The yanks are renowned for their treatment of people strapped into chairs. Was the pilot American?. Frantically listening the the accents of all the crew. They sound ok to me. Perhaps they're not allowed to electrocute people until they're beyond the 3 mile limit. Christ, another hurdle to cross. The cabin crew, quite a pleasant looking bunch then proceed to ensure all are well secured into their seats. By now I'm beginning to feel a little calmer. Sit back, look out of the window. Not too bad I suppose. Who's kidding who here. WHAT'S THAT NOISE. "Don't panic Chatty, it's only the engines starting. Quick look out of the window. Rolls Royce. Thank God, if they'd been Pratt & Whitney I would have died on the spot. Calming down again. Really georgeous Blonde stewardess stands up and starts her well rehearsed speech. "In the event of an accident" Bloody hell, even this lot are expecting to go down in flames. What chance do I have? I now knew that only birds and idiots flew. Once again I start going through the various things we could hit. How hard's water form 29,000 feet at 500 mph. If you hit a mountain would you see the front end crumple as it came towards you. Would I have time to call the pilot a complete tosser? Suddenly I became a Born Again Christian, must have been one of the first. Frantically searching my memory for long forgotten prayers, went through those I could remember then started composing a few of my own. How I wished I had spent more time at Sunday School than messing around on the beach. "We're moving" I groaned, "Bloody backwards". The pilots not that clever surely. Alan assured me we were being pulled out into position. Soon, under the plane's own power we started heading towards the runway. Can I handle the stress?, will I faint?, vomit? or make a fool of myself even more than I had already? After what seemed a lifetime, we stopped. The gentle hum of the engines were quite relaxing. Without any warning there was a sudden screech, no it wasn't me, it was the engines coming up to full power. We start rolling, Alan tells me to look out of the window. With eyes like organ stops I glare transfixed at the outside world hurtling by. My stomach starts heading towards my size 9's, we're airbourne. PING. No smoking sign goes off as does the seat belt sign. I must hold the record for getting to the loo before the plane reaches the outskirts of Heathrow.


Brian's picture
Joined: 18/05/2009
Posts: 297

guess you won't be taking that offer of a Tiger Moth ride then??