Ruminations

I've arrived safely and with no breakages to the precious cargo I was carrying ("it is all legal officer...all right, get me my lawyer") or to my person, despite the pilots' attempts to hit every bit of air turbulence they could find.

I had a window seat on the long haul flight, so I took some pics. Only a few turned out OK, like the one on the right (banking hard while doing a rapid descent over Heathrow just after breakfast, yummy).

Allow me to introduce my old friend, #1 Engine: this fellow gave me quite a bit of material for thought on the fragility of the human organism, especially when on the receiving end of brutal natural forces like gravity and pressure.

Just before I boarded at CT International, Titania was kind enough to share anecdotal evidence concerning engine failure as reported by a relative of hers... combined with my distressing knowledge of British Airways' service record (refer to my previous post) this did not help; in fact, I had a definite feeling of walking "towards the white light" as I entered the aircraft.

Furthermore, the pilot's statement "OK, folks, we have quite a short take-off, so be prepared" did absolutely nothing to inspire confidence in me, nor, I suspect, in the other passengers. A short take-off, in a jam-packed 747? "You must be joking," I thought. Images of crashing aircraft and, of course, 9-11 came to my mind. I smiled involuntarily, then returned to the less-amusing reality, where the aircraft was hurling itself into the sky (and not, apparently, into pieces). It succeeded in gaining a grip on the air, and we were rewarded with a night view over the Cape Flats: neighbourhoods making islands of light, pin-prick constellations formed by squatter camps (and they are big constellations), highways with the miniature cars careening back and forth making bright rivers, and the occasional blanket of cloud.

The rest of the flight was not eventful, and I managed to get some shut-eye.

After arriving at Heathrow, I hurried towards the nearest coffee-providing establishment. Heaven in a cup was served at a reasonable price, and I faced the 5-hour stopover with no trepidation. I spent my time wandering around the terminal, hooking up my laptop at a wi-fi hotspot (but no surfing... the charge is about £10 for 1 hour), checking the duty-free shops (and staggering back, aghast, at the prices), reading, and staring at the boarding schedule signs.

5 hours later, I was still waiting. The connecting flight was delayed. Did they tell us? Oh, no. I hurried to the boarding gate when it was announced (20 minutes before the flight was due to take off - to put this into perspective, boarding usually takes place in the period 45 minutes to 20 minutes before take-off), only to be faced with a crowd of pissed-off Swedes and tourists.

It seems BA thought it would be good idea not to apologize about the delay, but rather displace our frustration into guilt by reminding us gently (as with a claw hammer to the brain's pre-frontal cortex) about the new baggage dimension and weight restrictions. I knew about these: I had taken the pamphlet in South Africa, and I had listened to the repeated admonishments on board the long haul flight (the flight crew manager had reminded me of a particularly bloody-minded principal, with his "There are new regulations in place [blah blah, specifications] *pause for effect* and we are going to be quite strict about this; no exceptions will be made [blah blah]").

I resisted the impulse to bleat like a sheep. We waited, and eventually boarded. While boarding, a ground crew member confided in me that the catering logistics for the flight had gone awry. My chief sentiment was (and is) that BA's middle management should get their collective heads out of their collective asses and take courses in communication skills, industrial psychology, and basic logistics.

Out-of-body experiences and delays notwithstanding, the flights were not too bad. I have to commend the flight crews for their service - they are definitely under-appreciated.

So, I'm back in hyper-civilized Sweden, and specifically techno-paradise Kista. Great things are in the offing: it feels like I'm going somewhere again. 4 weeks of vacation, doing nothing constructive, no matter where and with whom, are too much for me ... I became jittery after the second week. Fortunately my friends treated me to some alcoholic abuse and wanton debauchery(can you say "red and fluffy"?). Thank you's to Just-ify, Titania, Your Eminence, The Woman, and Blood-Pixie. Next time we go beeg, very beeg.

And so, on with the thesis.