A "Different" Flight

Not ten minutes had passed since my plane had taken off from Nikos Kazantzakis. One splendid day outside, like those unique only to Crete. I had found my seat, right next to a mom wrestling with her twins. Until Hamburg I would have about another three hours, so I decided to read a book. I wish someone had told me how much a plane full of infants resembles a sci-fi script.

I had the isle seat while the other two were taken over by "Mother Courage and her Children" (Bertolt Brecht). The mother, in addition to her twins, was also trying to manage a slightly older third child.

 First, the yoghurt from the kid's menu fell and the tragic little mom made a mess trying to pick it up. In the seats to the front sat a somewhat calmer, or perhaps totally out-of-it, husband with the older child. As the time passed, the kids, charged up with unspent energy, started to open-close the little tables, push the window lids up-down and race the isles.

Their energetic little voices were fast destroying every single one of my cerebral cells. I began to stress. I started to look around for a sympathetic-to-my-plight passenger, but, despite my agonizing efforts, nothing. After all, they all had one or two kiddies of their own. I began praying for mercy.

Now the father gets up and opens the luggage compartment over my head…and you guessed it! A whole bunch of magazines fall on me and my half finished coffee. My pristine white blouse has now become an impressionist canvas with touches of cubism.  Fortunately, I always keep some clothes handy for just these types of unfortunate situations I somewhat often find myself in – like the time that oil dripped on my jacket and I ran all over Munich to find a dry cleaner…but I'm digressing.  

Finally, the pilot announced the landing. Wow, relief. I change my blouse inside the 0.5 sq.m. bathroom and I'm good to go.

We land and I take off fast. So then I think about my own kids and how they never misbehaved like that when they were little.

 Or maybe I don't remember all that well…you think?