Wednesday 13 June 2012

Plane Shame

Not a few moments ago I booked the third flight I have ever prepared and arranged for myself. This is also the first time I'll be travelling abroad, another thing that as will be revealed, I'm not crazy about.

Flying has been a pretty horrific and looming spectre in my life; planes are cramped, foosty and sterile cabins of death, not the luxurious high-tech glamorous and cosmopolitan engines of wonder that we knew them as before 9/11.

In fact as a youngster I vaguely remember plane journeys as exciting, whooshing, whirring, up in the sky, wahhhh, and so on. Then when the aforementioned 9/11 happened, and a year later a holiday to America that involved a bunch of 6 hour and 9 hour flights I found myself pretty traumatised by going on a plane, even going to the airport. Perhaps it's been this, coupled with a childhood that's always involved plane journeys as something never to be looked forward to (points for the socialisation breeds character ) argument.

Alas, on the 28th august I embark on my first proper flight, with connections and waiting times and all. Levying the pressure is myself and Billie (also travelling)'s choice to fly British Airways and avoid any of the stress and shit associated with the low cost ones. The snob in me has to subvert cost for comfort in this instance.

And I better get a bastarding camera in time for it