You're never too old to learn...

I learnt two very important things on the flight home from the UK today.

I’ll start with the one that struck me first: and that was that some people really aren’t very bright.

Getting onto the plane at Gatwick had involved the normal mad dash for the front of the queue, followed by the realisation for most people that it really wasn’t worth it.

Other passengers always need assistance and will be let on first, as will passengers with young children. Of course, these two groups are always shortly followed by the ‘Speedy Boarders’, who never turn out to be that speedy after all, and whose numbers are always so great that it usually turns out that paying for such status should really be deemed a complete waste of money. In addition, these ‘Speedy Boarders’ often find themselves infiltrated by people who aren’t ‘Speedy Boarders’ but who either like to try their luck or simply have no idea of the protocol. I have to say, I always enjoy watching this pantomime. It’s particularly good when we have to catch a bus out to the plane and the ‘Speedy Boarders’ rush to get onto the bus first, only to realise that this means that they’ll be getting off the bus last. Now, that’s a real hoot!

Anyway, I digress.

I was talking about why, today, I came to the conclusion that some people aren’t very bright. I suppose, in the above paragraph, it maybe seemed that I was suggesting that people who pay for speedy boarding aren’t very bright, but that is certainly not the case. They’re simply ill-informed or easily led. I’ll leave it at that.

No, what I was talking about was one particular lady sat in seat 20b. I was in row 19.

My row was settled. We’d all behaved admirably, stowing our bags with aplomb and quickly seating ourselves to avoid blocking the gangway and stopping others from getting to their seats.

Row 20 wasn’t quite the same.

The lady in 20b had the row to herself when I’d taken my seat, but shortly after, two gentlemen arrived. They were very polite:

‘Excuse me, I think that you’re in my seat? 20b?’

‘No, I’m in 20c.’

‘No, that’s 20b.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wasn’t sure…’

Interesting. She knew that her seat was 20c, but hadn’t known which seat of the three in her row that actually was. Therefore, she’d sat in the middle seat – 20b.

To be honest, I found this rather surprising, since logic dictated (to me, at least), that if you were in seat 20c, in a row of three seats, even if you didn’t know whether 20a was by the window or the aisle, the last seat you’d imagine to be labelled 20c would be the one in the middle. This would have to be 20b.

‘I’m happy to move, though,’ she kindly offered.

She then took a couple of minutes gathering her things (she’d obviously settled in nicely), before evacuating her seat and allowing the two gentlemen to take theirs. Seats 20a and 20b were now successfully and correctly occupied. Hurrah!

The lady then took her time placing whatever it was that she had with her in the pocket on the back of my chair, before seating herself and allowing the inordinately long queue that had now formed along the length of the plane to continue on its way.

Which was when I heard another gentleman speaking:

‘Where’s 20c? I’m in 20c, please.’

I later understood that this gentleman had eyesight issues (the stewardess mentioned it when she came to check on him), and he needed help finding his seat, which is why he was asking the question.

Interestingly, two people were vying for the same seat. This could go one of two ways.

‘But I’m in 20c,’ the lady replied innocently.

‘So am I,’ said the gentleman. ‘It says so on my ticket.’

‘So does mine,’ replied the lady.

Ooh! A stalemate!

The gentleman in 20b intervened. He turned to the lady who’d previously been in his seat:

‘Can I check your boarding pass?’

‘Please do. I’m not wearing my glasses.’

He checked it.

‘You should be in 22c. You’re in the wrong seat.’ Well, the wrong row, actually, is what he should have said.

‘Am I?’

‘Yes.’

Then the man whose seat it actually was, interjected:

‘If you want to stay with your husband, I can take your seat?’

‘He’s not my husband.’

I think that the man in 20b was probably relieved at that, and the lady once again stood up, blocking the gangway while she gathered her things. To be honest, despite not being married to the gentleman in 20b, it really would have been much easier if she’d simply stayed where she was, as had been suggested, but oh no. Much better to block the aisle once more.

To be honest, what I couldn’t get over is the fact that she obviously hadn’t looked at which was her seat before boarding the plane. Doesn’t everyone do that? I certainly do. It just seems patently logical to me, but obviously, to some people…

Anyway, enough of that. What else did I learn on my flight this evening. Well, having spent the first two thirds of the flight doing sudoku, playing solitaire and snoozing, I decided to listen to some music. I therefore pulled my AirPods (remote earphones for those of you wondering…) out of my pocket, stuck them in my ears and stuck on a bit of Clapton. I’ve never really listened to Eric before (well, not knowingly, although I recognised the majority of his songs, having never previously realised that it was him) and was enjoying it. Then halfway through ‘White Room’, I heard the tannoy going, but couldn’t make out what was being said, so I paused the music and listened. It was the call to use the toilets now if you needed to, since we would be landing in thirty minutes. Cool. I went back to listening to Eric.

A few minutes later, I could feel the plane starting to descend and thought nothing of it. But slowly, I began to realise that my ears were starting to hurt, well, my ear drums to be exact. What was going on? I’ve never had problems with my ears on a flight before. They’ve always popped easily. I persevered with listening to the music, but it was getting beyond a joke. It was like bad earache. So, what did I do? I removed my AirPods, pinched my nose, and popped my ears.

Bloody hell, it was like an explosion in my head! There was a loud piercing screech, followed by an immediate release and a comparative clarity of sound that you wouldn’t believe.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve popped my ears twice more, and felt a welcome release on both occasions, though nothing like what I felt on the plane.

So, what was the second thing that I learned on the flight home tonight? Next time, don’t be so bloody stupid. Stop the music and remove the AirPods long before the plane starts descending.

I hate to think what would have happened if I’d persevered! Luckily, my somewhat already dodgy hearing doesn’t seem to have been impaired any further.

Phew!