10 March 2016
Surviving the Flight
Auckland to Dubai
By Chin Chin
The new service from Auckland to Dubai takes over seventeen hours and I must say that as it looms up I am conscious of a slight trepidation. It isn’t so much that it might not be comfortable or that the food or films will be poor. I rely on Emirates to see to that and I expect they will do so most adequately. No, it’s just that I am not quite sure how I am supposed to behave and 17 hours is a long time to go without mistakes.
Of course I know one or two basics. Jokes to security about there being a bomb on board are a “no, no” and didn’t someone get locked up for exhibitionist sexual antics recently? Yes, I think they did, although perhaps it was two of them. Obviously, then, none of that sort of thing, but actually it is not much of an inhibition in practice as they were in business class and, despite visits to the gym, exhibitionist sexual antics in a tourist class seat sound rather beyond me.
Anyway it’s none of those things which concern me, nor the risk of getting fighting drunk or causing the aircraft to divert. It is the more subtle things. Some breach of etiquette, perhaps, which an Englishman ought to know better than to commit, the aviation equivalent of taking a mouthful before Grace or telling the truth when asked your views on modern art. Or, worse still, a failure to handle the incidents of the flight correctly.
It is not so bad if you’re in an aisle seat because there is only one real issue; when and how far back you can recline your chair. It is a particularly grey area. Unlike putting on your reading lamp when all passengers are supposed to be asleep, reclining your seat is not readily obvious to the airline staff so there is no sort of umpire. Instead the law of the jungle applies and the struggle is carried on surreptitiously. As with most tactical contests it is best to move first.
The starting place is, of course, the button on the left-hand arm of your chair. Push it and throw your weight back hard enough and the seat jumps back, throwing anything on the tray table attached to it into the lap of the stout passenger behind. You have to pretend that that was accidental. The fact that he may have been annoying you with an over-loud eulogy about Donald Trump, generously larded with references to “Li’l ole England” not being big enough to appreciate him, must appear to be coincidence. Then, when he stands up and catches you by the shoulder, you can express surprise and regret about the seafood dish which has now improved the appearance of his woollen “Go Trump” sweater.
Provided you are careful not to smirk he cannot do much immediately. If he throws a punch, the plane will be diverted to the nearest airport, probably somewhere in the Middle East where he will spend several days with rats in the local slammer. A perfectly good outcome from your point of view, of course, but, like a good chess player, you have to assume that this sort of quick victory is not available. No, he lurks, biding his time, until you are more or less asleep. Then a vicious kick into the back of the chair at kidney level and your nose hits the screen in front of you. A drawled “sorry fella” in a Texan accent does nothing to restore your composure.
To get your own back requires cunning and, if you are an experienced traveller, you will have pretended to be lame and brought a walking stick by way of preparation. Then all you need is for your adversary to remove his shoes and you can hook one quietly while the lights are off and throw it into the garbage at the end of the plane when you go to the loo. A somewhat similar technique was used by John Malkovich in the film “Dangerous Liaisons” but even an avid film-goer is unlikely to spot the connection as he hops about on one foot while everyone else is getting down their luggage.
If you’re in the middle of a row, it is much more difficult because inevitably there will be a moment in a flight of seventeen hours when you need to visit the loo. At that point the lights will be off and the people next to you will be asleep under their rugs. If you are impossibly athletic you will, of course, simply vault into the aisle, choosing to clear two passengers rather than one in order to show your prowess. For most of us, however, this isn’t really an option and the choice is between waking them up (okay the first time but not so good on the fifth as those duty-free pints take effect) or doing some judicious clambering.
I have never been much of a mountain climber but, as I understand it, the important thing is to find somewhere firm to put your weight. It is here that your difficulties begin because hidden under the rug is a mixture of chair arms (quite firm enough to take your weight), aircraft seat (ditto) and bodily parts (not ideal). That turns it all into something of a challenge. You have to prod the potential handholds and footholds and once you have identified them climb over the top.
The key to this is to have a good look at your companions before they go to sleep so that you can get an idea of their general position. There are some places where you had really better not put your hands and others, such as their tray tables and computers, where you can safely put a foot. The difficulty comes, of course, if you get it wrong and they wake up halfway through the operation with a yelp of pain. They are likely to create a fuss and call for the steward. There is only one technique that will deal with this and it is the one we all use when we need to get out of crowded premises in a hurry. You clutch your throat and say:
“I’m terribly sorry, I’m about to be sick”. As they recoil you jump into the aisle. Then you spend the remaining fifteen hours hiding in the loo.
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