#flight from hell

The year is 2014, December, and my family and I are going on vacation. 

It's an international flight, and we have a 2-hour wait at the gate before we board and my then-kid brothers are bouncing up and down because it's been ten years since they've been on a plane and "what if it crashes?! what is it like in the plane?! do we get food?! how much longer?!" 

And then, 20 minutes before boarding, like out of a dream, a family of 12+ shows up to the gate. They were with us on the shuttle, and at check-in. The kids were rowdy, like, really rowdy, and the child-to-adult ratio is way off, so there's no way they can keep all of them in check, and i now have a 4-hour flight with rowdy children. They’d been trying to check their bags earlier and some of their stuff was packed in plastic grocery bags and it was all a very big mess of disorganized chaos. And They're on the same flight

We board, the five of us on a Boeing 737 so the seats are 3 to a row. We end up sitting with my mom, dad, and brother in one row, my other brother on the aisle, so he can talk to his twin across the aisle, and then me. with the dreaded middle seat. but the window seat is empty! everyone is boarding the plane and no one is going for the window seat! I might have a four hour flight with no one beside me! 

and then... the family

they board last

and these guys probably did not know about the 72-hour early check in and seat selection, because they're all obviously traveling together, but not two of them are sitting together. They are scattered literally all up and down the plane, kids sitting without supervision, grandparents who cant reach the overheads. It's a flight attendant's nightmare

one sits right behind me. a kid, probably 10 years old. and he keeps getting up and sitting down and getting back up to yell across the plane at his parents, and every time he stands up, he uses my headrest to yank himself up and thus ends up yanking me backwards. every. single. time.

im now only mildly annoyed. In five hours, I'll be on a beach. It's fine. Whatever. Ignore the hyper monkey child. 

we're just about to take off, the captain talking about taking the plane to de-icing, my brother leaning over me to look out the window, when the grandfather shows up. and he doesnt speak english, but communicates effectively that he is the owner of the window seat. 

"Oh, okay, one second" i try to convey while I shove my brother out of his seat to make room for this man whose skin looks like ancient parchment that might blow away at any second. He does not understand. he launches himself across our laps and struggles to pull himself to his seat.

As the plane drives over to de-icing, and the flight attendants are giving their safety talks, I'm pointing things out to my brother through the window, and then Grandpa sticks his face to the glass, nose touching and everything. there goes that entertainment plan.

While they're giving the safety talk and preparing to head to the runway, the lady whom i can only assume is grandpa's wife, gets up and starts walking down the aisle, leaning over people and handing things to her children and grand children as she goes. the flight attendants don't know what to do. it's just so uncalled for. and then she reaches grandpa, and what does she give him? 

a pomegrante

Grandma is ushered back to her seat, and the plane begins to take off. I'm still flabbergasted. This is an international flight. How did Grandma get a pomegranate past security?! Why is someone bringing a pomegranate on a plane?!1

and then

the worst part

Grandpa bites into the pomegranate like it's a bloody apple!

and bloody it was. our row looked like a murder scene. there is pomegranate juice on the seatback in front of us. pomegranate juice on the wall of the plane. pomegranate juice on Grandpa. and the more he eats, the more there is pomegranate juice, until it reaches me, and I look like i've got blood splatter on my face

he sits there, window seat, four hour international flight, eating his pomegranate like i've never seen anyone eat a pomegranate, while his great grandchild yanks me back and forth like im on a roller coaster, and as he eats, he's spitting rind and pomegranate membrane into his palm and holding onto it like it's not covered in spit

finally, grandma comes back, bouncing up and down the aisle because there isn't turbulence, but she doesn't have great balance. When she reaches us, Grandpa drops the handful of pomegranate rind, along with the rest of the uneaten pomegranate, into her proffered grocery bag, and she continues on her way

grandpa motions that he needs to stand. so i nod. "Oh, okay, one second". grandpa launches across our laps like last time, spilling pomegranate seeds from the folds in his clothing as he goes

I look over while he's gone. pomegranate seeds litter his seat. the juice is everywhere. 

100 days – Day 81 (ii) – On This Day, 1979

100 days – Day 81 (ii): on this day, 35 years ago

  12 July 1979:  we set off from Heathrow to Trinidad in a British Airways Jumbo.  I was to be the Church of Scotland minister at Grefriars/St Ann’s in Port of Spain for the next four years.  I was 31 years of age.

    A twelve hour plane journey to the West Indies can be pretty awful, and, on that day , it was the flight from hell, as we set off…