Oh, believe me, I had quite a few internal conversations on the plane home, convinced as I was that because it was an overnight flight, I would sleep. Ha!
My seat was the middle of three.
On my left was a (very pleasant) large lady, whose ample right thigh oozed under the armrest and took up about a quarter of my space.
On my right was Peter, who does that thing that many men do when seated on buses, trains and planes (citing the comfort of their undercarriage as an excuse) - he sat with legs splayed, which took up about a quarter of my space.
In front of me, I swear the guy had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. He thrashed about, arching his back, tossing his head, making my poor little personal screen buck and wobble when I was trying to watch movies. His seat, when reclined, took up another quarter of my space.
I was quite squashed. I adopted the Upward Plank Position, legs stretched out straight under the seat in front, lower back supported by a pile of clothes.You could have done the ironing on my taut body.
Then, we kept on being Served With Things. Oh, yes. 3 a.m. I DO feel like a plastic container full of luke-warm chicken pasta and an egg-cup sized complimentary white wine, also luke-warm. Absolutely, I do.
(Don't mean to be churlish. I KNOW I'm the luckiest person in the world to have had such a trip.)
Good to be home though!
*Alain De Botton, from The Art of Travel
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