Friday, September 24, 2004

Air Canada

Air Canada is the quiet old village shop of airlines. The cabin crew are entirely comprised of little old ladies, with big smiles and not much stock.

The inflight magazines have been stolen from a Doctor's surgery, the chairs craftily pinched from a retirment home, and the inflight entertainment system has been rigged up by one of the attendant's charming young grandchildren.

All this would have been a giggle, except for the irritating family sat next to me on the plane. Four of them. Two adults, blissfully unaware of their screaming children. The brats were strapped in, and started to wail. Not normal wailing, but BLUE BLOODY MURDER wailing. The kind of screaming you normally only hear in the queues at Argos.

Ignored by their parents, the flight crew descended, coddling the bratlings with colouring books. The children continued to scream and wail, all the while happily colouring in and kicking the seat in front of them.

As we taxid for take off, an attendant zimmered her elderly frame up the aisle to the father. "Sir, we're pausing in take off. Discipline these children, or we'll have to ask you leave the plane."

The Dad shrugged, and obliged by viciously punching one of the children. It responded by punching him back. The Dad reached for a pillow, and started to stifle the child.

The plane took off. In stunned silence.

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