High life
Let fly
Taki
For the umpteenth time I have had an altercation while flying. This one was on the flight from London to Athens, as frustrating a journey, I find, as coitus inter- ruptus. The bad mood started as soon as I entered the British Airways tri-star and realised that although 1 had paid for a first class ticket the BA check-in attendant had not bothered to give me a refund for the fact that first class on the Athens route has gone the way of trade union leaders without blow-dried hair, clean shaven Leftists, and patriotic bishops. BA and Olympic now have something they charge more money to travel in which they call club class. It is nothing of the kind, needless to say unless, of course, one belongs to clubs like Club Mediterranee. The difference between tourist and club class is indistinguishable. There are three rows, three seats to each row, and if one has paid for club one is penalised by being given more airline food to eat. C'est tout.
Although I am as democratic as the next fellow, I have always paid extra in order not to fly sitting between two strangers. This is because of a terrible experience I had in 1959. My father had suddenly been visited by two Mafia figures whom I had borrowed some money from in order to keep an ex- pensive mistress. Because he knew what the Mafia do when they don't get what they want, he paid up. But he decided to teach me a lesson. He sent me to work in one of his textile factories in the Sudan. (It was the largest mill in the Middle East, and the first to be nationalised when our man, President Abboud, was overthrown.) Worse, he dispatched me tourist class. The aeroplane was full and I was assigned the middle seat between two Arab gentlemen. I will not go into the goiy details of my martyrdom. Suf- fice it to say that never have 1 prayed for any aeroplane to crash as fervently as I did that day. But to no avail. The horror of those five hours has been assuaged by the fact that I have flown first class ever since. Until this week.
When the stewardess pointed to a mid- dle seat I walked off the plane and demand- ed that my luggage be removed. But I soon changed my mind when two Japanese ladies giggled and said that they would prefer to sit next to each other anyway. While grumbling about the lack of a first class sec- tion, and the fact that I had paid more than anybody else on the plane in order to be just like everyone else, I felt a sharp kick on my backside. '0i, Sid, don't do that,' I heard a vulgar female voice say. When I looked back I saw a small boy with a pinched face looking like the proverbial cat that has swallowed the canary. I gave him my best Humphrey Bogart look, and turned round.
After about 30 seconds he did it again. This time his mother said nothing. I decided to ignore it. Boom, The kick came again. I spun round and told him that I was an ex- pert in teaching manners to little boys. He smiled but said nothing. His mother, however, began giving me dirty looks. tried to concentrate on my newspaper but found it impossible. How can one read 3 serious paper under such circumstances? So I put away the Daily Telegraph, opened The Times and waited. It didn't take long. The little bastard kicked again, and harder than usual. I got up, asked for the steward and demanded that the child change seats with his mother. The steward refused, saying something about people who are never satisfied. By this time the rest of the passengers were enjoying themselves Im" mensely at my expense. I pretended to bury myself in the newspaper but once again the little creep struck. So I got up, grasped his shoulder firmly, and pinched his cheek yen: hard. 'Next time I will cut your ear off, warned him.
At this point the boy's mother yelled for her husband, who, for some inexplicable reason, was sitting in another aisle. (On 3, cond thoughts, he probably refused to 1'Y with his son and wife sitting next to hiln, and I don't blame him.) By the time he lumbered over I was ready. 'Don't start anything that I will finish once we get to Athens,' I told him in my most ominous manner. So for the rest of the trip I had to endure the sound of their voices while theY expatiated on the beastliness of people who are cruel to children. When the trip firiallY. ended I came to the horrible realisation that I can never fly to Athens again.
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