Half Life - 5 - wine and water
November 27th 2020
Flying was brilliant, I loved it in all its forms and grinned every time at take-off. Best of all was when, at someone else’s expense, I was able to walk towards the pointed end of the plane, encamp in a huge comfortable seat and cocoon myself for hours while being projected half-way around the world at high speed. Any guilt connected with not working while skimming the clouds usually evaporated with the second glass of wine and, if it hadn’t, the third completed the job. With the laptop, and its pleading for attention, silenced by hiding it in the overhead locker, I caught up on films or indulged in endless episodes of Friends. Snacks and food were brought to order and when, having sampled most of the wines on offer, I moved to whisky, the need for the chair to become a bed came into its own. The only thing lacking in such circumstances was a private bathroom. I did once consider using the sick bag to save me getting up, but concluded that handing the stewardess a bag of my still warm urine would probably bring the flow of free drinks to an abrupt end.
The very unattractive, chemotherapy created, lymphoedema in my left leg had already put an end to my hopes of reversing my ex-flyer status long before Covid disembowelled the aviation industry. Although able to claim new, if accidental, eco-credentials this situation generated a serious first-world dilemma. I couldn’t just wait for all those airmiles, carefully collected over the years, to lapse and vanish into the clouds. Everyone’s favourite virus meant that giving them away was pointless; no one was flying. Resolution came for my stash of miles with a Middle Eastern airline when they offered me the opportunity to give them to charity. In a private acknowledgement that I should probably have drunk more of the stuff while flying, I gave them all to Water Aid. The other airline holding a pile of miles for me, and probably looking to fall in line with the UK’s new policy on overseas aid, showed a lack of British generosity and didn’t offer the option to give them away. However, hidden on their website was, in what felt like a personal favour to me and my on-board habits, the ability to turn them into wine. With a punctuality not often achieved by their planes, a case of seriously good Champagne turned up five days later.
Clearing out the airmiles was a final declaration that my flying days were over, once and for all. You don’t usually know the last time you do something until sometime after you’ve done it. It dawns on you gradually, like the creeping certainty after a bad interview that you won’t get the job. Regardless how optimistic you may want to feel, you know it’s simply not going to happen. My in-transit personal wine festivals have blurred my memory on the details of my last dip into the world of executive flying, but the date is there in my diary. I have to accept that it is unlikely I will see places I loved ever again, like New York, Vermont or Sydney. On the silver-lining side, I won’t need to go to Las Vegas or Beijing ever again either. Perhaps the only regret that creeps in is the transformation of what was my ‘must see before I die’ list, with New Zealand and Okinawa at the top, into my ‘will never see’ list. These are now flights of fancy which will need to be satisfied by re-watching Lord of the Rings and Karate Kid 2.
It may not be fashionable to say it these days, but flying was a great experience and I miss it. I hope it comes back properly and, even if I am not able to indulge in it myself, that my boys can enjoy it. I am more than willing to plant a thousand trees, eat coal, bury members of the Cabinet down disused mineshafts, or whatever I am meant to do to correct the carbon release to allow it to continue. Since seeing the world is important, and how you get there is just as important as the destination, I am going to start looking at cruise ships. I’m sure once they are fully disinfected and get going again there will be deals to be had. I may not yet be at the mandatory seven decades required, but I am sure I can off-set disability for age and qualify that way. Their target market is probably getting considerably smaller too, given the penchant for older, Trump supporting, Americans to avoid wearing masks while gathering in fields. Until then, travel remains in the mind, so I’ll open the free Champagne and, with a large glass in hand, remember with a smile the places I’ll not see again and dream of the places I now never will.
Love your writing, keep sharing your half life with us. x
I hate flying but I like drinking champagne 🤪 I try to combat my flying fear by drinking champagne....🤣