You know, I hate flying. I don't even have any fancy dreams about flying, because I hate it so much.
Exactly one week ago I punished myself, once again, and made a one-day-trip to Denmark. That's just utterly silly.
Why didn't I punish myself with a daytrip to Vantaa insted?
No, I had to see one exhibition, so I made four flights in one day just to do so.
Everything went on fine until we arrived at Gothenburg Landvetter International Airport,
which is Sweden’s second busiest air hub, as you can see from the photo.
Five minutes before the departure we were standing outside, staring at this:
Before I managed to say there's-asolutely-no-way-I'm-going-to-place-my-ass-in-that-tin, I was pulled inside and the plane was in the air.
I looked at the Chief Curator, who comforted me.
CC: I have flown with a similar plane at least twice before and it was just bloody awful. Well, it wasn't this windy, though.
The pilot: Welcome to the flight to Aarhus. It's going to be a mixed pleasure. The wind is heavy, but you might see some fabulous thunderstorms.
The hell I will, thought I and was right. I couldn't even watch out from the window, because I was so busy with the lovely flight attendant, whose name I have already
forgotten, but I will call her Tytte.
Tytte: Do you want some juice?
T Fox: Well, erm, yes, thank you.
Tytte: Here's a sandwich for you.
T Fox: Oh, thank you. Is there any meat in it?
Tytte: Oh, I've got a special carrot sandwich for you.
T Fox: Well, thank you.
Tytte: Any coffee? Tea?
T Fox: Coffee, thanks.
T Fox: Oh, well, I shouldn't but...
Tytte: Wine? White? Red?
T Fox: Yes please. White, please.
Tytte leaves me struggling with my meal. I am busy trying to keep all the stuff on the tray. The plane bounces and I pour some wine on my lap.
The plane bounces again and I try to find the parts of the sandwich, which are trying to hide inside my bra.
Pilot: We start landing now.
It's impossible to eat all that stuff when your flight lasts for half an hour. I try my best. I drink wine like a sponge. I eat sandwich like a mad squirrel.
Tytte: Want a packet of baby carrots?
T Fox: No thank you.
Tytte looks disappointed.
T Fox: Okay then, thanks.
Suddenly it feels like I was part of an Enid Blyton flight. All that food and so little time. Where's the ginger ale?
The plane lands. I forgot to hate flying. My humble thanks, British Airways.
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