I’ve just worked out than in the space of 30 days between leaving Jakarta, and returning back there via London, New York, Missouri, Minneapolis, Indiana, New York, and London again, we will have been on no less than 15 planes. That’s a pretty hefty amount of time spent up in the air which is why when we were travelling across the Atlantic yesterday, and I had 8 hours to amuse myself, I started thinking about the Mile High Club.
Personally I don’t actually relish the thought of doing ‘it’ on a plane, but I do know that for some folk, acting out ones carnal fantasies and desires at 38.000 feet is something not to be missed out on and Good luck to them I say.
I find it bad enough queuing outside waiting for a cubicle with all eyes on you, but the thought of publicly having to push Pedro through the tiny folding door with my post-Christmas derriere swiftly following him, frankly is too much. How on earth it’s possible to have any satisfaction in such a small, smelly, badly lit space is beyond me. You can hardly swing from the chandeliers so it’s a quickie over the toilet seat or sink I guess?
I went to have a pee, alone, and no sooner had I un zipped, struggled to get my jeans down and was squatting over the seat than bingo! the sound system sent out an urgent message that passengers should return to their seats immediately as we were about to hit some turbulence. And boy! some turbulence we hit. If we had bitten the bullet and been in flagrante, I’m pretty sure that we would both have been knocked unconscious by the force of the plane navigating its way through the rocky wind passage.
Of course the toilets aren’t the only place that Mile High clubbers can get their kicks. There is always the Blanket option by which I mean getting seriously up close and personal underneath the cosy sheet that’s provided by the airline. This must have it’s drawbacks though as even when innocently used to keep warm, the blanket is being constantly checked by the stewardesses to see if your seat belt is done up. I don’t think we’d have got very far yesterday with fumblings and the such like as I was constantly being asked to put my buckle over the blanket and not underneath it. A bit of a passion killer I’d say.
Instead of thinking lusty thoughts and acting out on them, I boringly contented myself with watching films to pass the time. Film watching after 5 hours gets quite tiring so I then decided it might be a good idea to try to nap. I can never sleep on planes for very long but I thought I would give it a whirl anyway so I put the headphones on, finished my G&T, wrapped myself in the blanket, and commenced working my way down the long list of Well Being tapes starting with ‘Flying without fear’ followed by ‘Positive Mental Attitude’, ‘Stop Smoking’, ‘Stress Management’, ‘Deep recharge’, ‘Secret Garden’, and ending with ‘Falling Asleep’. This my friends, was just what I was about to do after 2 hours of listening to monotonous voices urging me to reinvent myself, relax, and stop a life time of bad habits until that is, the stewardess came over, tapped me on the shoulder and told me to buckle my belt up……..