Melbourne (MEL) to Singapore (SIN) QF9
6088km/3780mi to go: I’m in 54C, an aisle seat just in front of the wing. The plane is filling, fellow passengers going
through their pre-flight rituals, books here, bags there, snort salty water, earplugs
at the ready. ‘Please place your bags in
the overhead lockers or under the seat in front of you. Cabin crew prepare cabin for departure…’
I feign interest in the safety briefing.
Do they really think the brace position will make a difference as we
spiral into the ground from 42,000 feet?
‘Your life jacket is under your seat… If oxygen is required, masks will fall from
above. Fit yours before helping others…’ I wonder if anyone else knows it takes about
five seconds without oxygen to blackout at 35,000 feet.
6086km/3780mi to go: Takeoff. The A380 is smooth on the runway, lifting without effort into the air. The seatbelt sign stays on through the climb to our cruising altitude. A flickering light comes through the windows, like the red-eye flash of a camera. A dull thud accompanies the last flash, audible but no vibration; conversation levels barely change. The pilot comes on the PA: lightning and thunder close by, but no need to worry. I wasn’t worried, before…
5849km/3632mi to go: The friendly cabin crew are here for our comfort. They pass through the cabin handing out
bottled water. This is a DVT-free zone;
stay hydrated and read the information pages of the in-flight magazine.
What to watch? Premiere
movies? Encore? Classics?
Decisions, decisions…
54D is snoring. I hear him over
the muzak in my headphones. How did he
fall asleep so quickly? That’s not fair.
5095km/3164mi to go: The dinner service moves through the cabin. We eat, not from hunger or nutrition, but
boredom. Only 6h 09m to go.
4489km/2788mi to go: The first movie finishes. The toilets are occupied – I know this
because on the bulkhead in front of me is the handy indicator lamp. The cabin crew collect trays, sweeping aside
the debris of an event. Event marks time:
meals, movies, toilet trips…
3043km/1889mi to go: The second movie finishes with the daylight. The edge of the continent glows sunset
orange. Nothing below us but ocean,
ships and asylum seekers.
1761km/1094mi to go: 2h 12m to destination and I’m bored. No movies appeal to me. My eyes hurt.
I don’t want to read. Is there
more food? Officially desperate now, I
resort to a Liam Neeson movie. I wonder
if Doc and Liam ever met – the Angel and the hard man?
995km/618mi to go: Another meal, the last supper. Time drags, but now I worry we’ll land early
and I’ll miss the end of the movie. Do
Einstein’s theorems of time and space apply in an aircraft? Is there a distortion of the time-space
curve, compressing days but stretching minutes and seconds?
Good coffee: I’m surprised: Grinders(tm)
in giant plungers for twenty.
Seatbelt sign is on.
7km/5mi to go: The wheels are down.
There are lights outside the windows.
People on the ground and sea go about their lives, oblivious to the
carbon fibre tube above them, filled with our lives.
0h 1m to destination. The movie
finishes, goodbye Liam, the only survivor.
The irony in watching a plane-crash movie while flying amuses me. Music plays through my headphones. I anticipate the flare, touchdown, reverse
thrust and the roll out. The big plane
taxis to the terminal.
Outside air temp: 28°C. Welcome to
Singapore where the local time is…
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