The Book of Life
If my life was a story being written, then I’m on the cusp of chapter 7. I remember very little of the events of chapter 1, and chapters 2 & 3 were a non-event, that only served the purpose of progressing to chapter 4. As for 5 & 6, well, they have brought a thousand smiles to my face and a thousand tears. It’s been a fantastic ride…
In 6 weeks time, I’ll be on a plane, cruising at 35,000ft above the Atlantic Ocean. I’ll possibly be eating some airline food right now, watching a movie perhaps. Maybe I’ll be cursing the screaming child sat in the row behind me, or quietly fuming about the overweight man in the seat next to me spilling into my personal space. I’m an ‘aisle seat’ person. I love the window seat if there is anything worth seeing, but as most long haul flights are too high up for any kind of view, or generally over oceans, or during the hours of night, I prefer to feel that perception of space that is afforded by sitting at the aisle. Being stuck in the middle or window seat of a long haul flight is the closest I will ever come to feeling claustrophobic.
One of the worst flights I experienced was on a London to JFK flight, where I was stuck in the middle seat. To my right was a man who did nothing to dispel the well known stereotype about American’s waistlines. As such, I couldn’t get my arm rest down, and therefore I had nowhere comfortable to rest my right arm. I naturally spent a lot of time leaning to the left. Unfortunately, on my left side, was a full-grown, broad shouldered man. Whilst not overweight, his stocky dimensions meant that in order to avoid touching the flab of the man on my right, I was practically lying on his shoulder. I’d never before been so crooked in a plane seat. Mealtime was even worse. I couldn’t get my laptray down fully, and there was much awkwardness trying to politely make out like his belly wasn’t the problem. It was an extremely smelly and uncomfortable flight.
Μy most favourite flight on the other hand was another trans-atlantic, this time from Glasgow to Toronto. It was my first time heading out of Europe, and I was travelling solo. Clearly I looked pathetic and vulnerable to the ground staff, because without knowing it, I had my seat exchanged at the last minute. I knew no different when I was seated in the second row from the front, and it wasn’t until half way through the flight that it finally dawned on me that I wasn’t in economy class. The space was luxurious but boy did I feel the difference on the flight back to Scotland!
The long and the short of it is: I love to travel. I love travelling around my own country just as much as I love travelling to and around other countries. It doesn’t define me, but it is part of my story, and it plays an integral part to chapter 7 in my book of life.
Welcome to my travelogue…