Flights

Three Episodes which Prove why I Take After my Mother when it Comes to Public Transport.

Episode One

Firstly, I must explain the layout of this plane. It was hardly even half full, so I amazingly ended up with the whole middle three seats to myself. On the left was a young couple, and on the right was a mother with her 6 or 7 year-old child. Behind the couple was a middle-aged Australian man.

Now, about halfway through the flight, when everyone was asleep except, apparently, me and the Australian man (I can’t sleep on planes; I don’t know his reason), he suddenly decided to turn on his light. The positioning of his light, as it happened, made it so that I could make shadow puppets on the seat in front of me, so naturally, I made a dog and got it to sing along to the music I was listening to at the time. I was rather enjoying this, until I realised that the little boy at the end of the row had in fact woken up, and was now staring at me with sheer puzzlement. He of course couldn’t see the shadows and was therefore wondering why the apparently fully-grown lady along the row was making her hand talk to her.

Episode Two

My sister gave me a little toy penguin to cuddle on the plane, which was very nice of her. This particular penguin stands up of its own accord and is about the right size to hold with one hand. Now because I had three seats to myself I decided to lie across them to see if I could get any sleep (result: none, see earlier). At one point I happened to be holding the penguin and lay on my back with my hand, holding the penguin facing my head, on my chest. Needless to say, I got the shock of my life when I opened my eyes a few minutes later and thought the Penguin of Death had come to get me at last.

Episode Three

Waiting in the “Foreign Passport” queue at Hiroshima Airport, I noticed that the man in front of me was white (that may sound normal but we were probably the only two in the airport) and had a passport coloured exactly the same as mine. I had also seen him on the flight from London. I now wonder why I felt I had to speak to him in the first place. I guess it was because, as aforementioned, we were the only two white people in the airport, but anyway. Great, I thought, another English person! I shall make a patriotic comment! “We’re winning the Six Nations!”, I proclaimed enthusiastically, waiting for a joyful agreement.

“That’s great,” he said, slightly sarcastically, in a very Irish accent. “How much are you winning by?”

Luckily, after I’d apologised, he didn’t seem to mind too much and we chatted until we got to the front of the queue. Later on, however, I think he was glad I’d made the mistake, because he couldn’t speak any Japanese, and I happened to be waiting for a bus as he was trying to explain a few things to an information assistant who couldn’t speak English, so I helped him out.

I think this proves, to anyone who has read my mum’s blog, that I take after her in more than just eye colour.