Fed up with my recent experiences of travelling to Scotland by train, I decided I would fly to Edinburgh today. It’s much easier and not significantly more expensive (only £30 each way, plus about the same again in airport taxes) and the plane is unlikely to be stopped by signals outside Crewe. Of course the chances are that if the plane breaks down you’re in a bit more trouble, but to be frank on my last trip back from Glasgow having my body all exploded up would have been some kind of a relief.
I was unusually nervous about flying. I used to fear it a lot more, but aside from a few butterflies and excitement as the engines rev up I thought I was more or less over this. After all I have jumped out of a plane now, so youÂ’d think that just sitting in one wouldnÂ’t be too much of a stress for me. But I think maybe watching 12 episodes of Lost in the last week might have contributed to my concerns. Unlikely as it was that weÂ’d be brought down on a mysterious tropical island with monsters and madmen on it, it was probably more the crashing bit that I wasnÂ’t too excited about. In fact if I was in a plane crash I would be more than happy if I could walk away from it and if that meant being stranded with loads of beautiful women who look like movie stars (and alas also lots of handsome men who look like movie stars, who might prove more interesting to the beautiful women than me) then so be it.
Maybe my nerves were also down to the fact that as we were all boarded the captain apologised for the delay, casually adding that this was due to the fact that they were in the process of changing a wheel on the plane. Wasn’t this a bit late to be doing this? And what if the mechanics rushed the job and the wheel fell off? I suppose it’s better than them just thinking, “Oh that wheel looks a bit dodgy, but it’s too late to change it now. We wouldn’t want to hold people up!”
As it turned out the flight was uneventful. The most incredible thing that happened was when I was reading the in-flight magazine to discover that Debbie Harry has turned 60. That just doesnÂ’t seem possible? SheÂ’s nearly as old as my mum. How can she have tricked the adolescent me to fancy her? What was she doing becoming a pop star in her 30s? ThatÂ’s too old to be fanciable, I thought, before realising that I am 38 and should shut up. I think the real problem with this is that I still think I am about 20, so Debbie being 60 forces me to face up to the fact that I am older too. I donÂ’t like having to face up to that. Debbie still looks good though. I would. If I was trapped on a mysterious island and all the model women were taken.
I got into my hotel room to see live coverage of an 11 seater plane in America somewhere, with landing gear problems. We the viewer were being invited to witness the agonising moments leading up to the dangerous landing. It seemed somewhat ghoulish and wrong, though I know this happened before recently (in fact I think the people on board were able to watch the channel that was covering their plight). We were possibly witnessing the last moments of the people aboard and I wondered if the producers of the news programme were actually hoping that the plane would skid and burst into flames because that would make spectacular television. Certainly more spectacular than the current shot of a white blob that looked like a plane in the middle of a blue sky. After our own wheel based problems today the sickness of this situation was put into sharp relief. It certainly brings up some ethical questions about these 24 hour news stations.
I decided that I would go out rather than watch this unpleasant spectacle, so I donÂ’t know if the landing was a success (depending on your definition of success). I am guessing the plane didnÂ’t burst into flames as there was nothing on the news about it later (and people staying alive doesnÂ’t make for any kind of story does it?). Maybe they just disappeared on to an enchanted island though. Which again is scarcely news these days.
