Sort of not me....
Returning from a rather lovely if extortionately expensive holiday, we were delayed only a couple of hours before our (first leg) of the homeward voyage from La la Tinsel to Heathhell.
I - like most - find flying rather tedious at the best of times. in fact, I'd rather row the atlantic alone if it weren't for the time it takes and the considerable risk of drownage. I digress.

After an hour or so, we're pleasantly informed by an astoundingly camp 'Cabin services director' (read; Chief steward bummer) that the entertainment system is not working and our 12 hour torture will be devoid of the slight distraction they amusingly call "entertainment".
At this point I begin to deeply regret not buying the overpriced story-devoid paper-back novels and content-shy magazines on offer in the terminal. Thankfully for me, the overwhelming strain of a fortnight spent driving around and 'seeing stuff' kicks in, and I avoid the inconvenience documented above by falling soundly asleep for a good 9 or 10 hours.
Waking to see my wife on the verge of tears while hurtling over the South-West coast of this scabby island we call home, I courteously enquire as to what is upsetting her. She responds with a glare that would extinguish the sun, refusing to elaborate.

In Heathhell, awaiting our second flight I find the cause of my wifes upset. Oddly this wasn't my fault (at which point I found myself in completely new territory) but the (admittedly minor for this thread) ordeal she'd suffered at x-thousand feet. I should point out here that I sleep rather soundly, to the extent that a fire engine was once on our front garden during the night and failed to wake me.
Apparently the flight had suffered from some rather violent turbulence which had brought on bouts of vomiting for numerous travellers (I thought there was an unpleasant smell when I woke, but assumed they were serving breakfast!) and scared the living bejeesus out of everyone on board (those of THEM who were conscious anyway). My wifes particular greivance was that the rather unbalanced american woman on her other side had been quite distraught while looking beyond my slumbering bulk and seeing that the usually stable wing of the 777 was flapping like that of a sparrow due to the afforementioned turbulence. So much so that she apparently began to scream "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!" at increasingly regular intervals until the turbulence passed.
After some days, my wife was able to look back at this and laugh heartily. Unfortunately i could not share in her giggles of mirth, not only because I failed to witness the spectacle, but apparently she'd found a little humour in watching me snore through the 'lift-your-arse-off-the-seat-and-smack-your-head-on-the-overhead-storage' level of turbulence without so much as a stir from my slumber.

The effects on me of this airborne ordeal? A slightly sore head (sadly lacking the 'reading light' shaped indentation) and rather scratchy throat because I snore when sleeping upright.

Happy landings!
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Fri 8 Sep 2006, 16:24, Reply)