| I'm sitting here in these newly "cranked" seats, by which the airlines are supposedly saving money, and I can't stop thinking about my father. He is a man who will forever hold the highest place in both my respect, and admiration - The thing I can't get over is that my father seems to value me as much as I do him. It's that twilight time out, where everything is yellow and pink - I have no idea what time it is, as I have yet to bother following the time changes across the zones - Dad used to explain the amazing day/night phenomenon to me, "It's like we're chasing the sun," he'd say. One way day would pass, then night, then day again, and the other would be a day drawn out so long that I began to question the accuracy of Dad's old watch with the cracked face and worn leather strap... Flying out of a gloomy day, through the clouds and into bright sunshine was, is, always a wonderful and exciting venture. As a child, or as myself, it is nearly impossible to see past the edge of the yard, nevermind all the way to the idea that just above the stormy day surrounding, is a beautiful, clear, sky on a bed of clouds. When Dad and I first started flying together, flights were long and smoking was permitted in curtained sections, so there was no need for the smoke-detector in the lavatory "for your safety." On one twelve hour flight, though I tried my best to be still, Dad ended up walking me up and down the aisle - through various coloured curtains denoting class and smoking preferences - many times. I was allowed to go sit with the captain then, and to explore down the vast spiral staircase near the full bar - with stools and all - at the back of the plane. We even stood for "fresh air" near the open door as we stopped to re-fuel. The way things are in air travel these days saddens me. Fear -drives check-in counters around corners -stops Dad walking me to my gate with a "special", easily photocopied, pass -makes passengers a miserable breed, concerned more with money and foot room than the continually amazing facts that "man" can fly and that they themselves are privileged enough to do so... Used to be that I could never sleep on planes... I do now, but that is largely due to medication and not real fatigue. Dad used to wake up only to have a neighbouring passenger shake his hand, say hello, and address him by name...I had/have, a habit of telling life stories, be they my own or those of someone I find more interesting. My Dad, being an intensely private person, always struggled with these occurrences, but he has yet to miss his in-flight sleep, or to tell the story without a smile. The division between classes is more and more obvious - classes of airlines and of people. I think that when I was younger, the only people who flew often were the wealthy...the super wealthy used to fly, the now defunct, Concorde - a wonder of the world so far as I'm concerned - Dad and I sometimes find ourselves in marble floored lounges, and eating the sorbets of the upper-classes, but the airline I'm on today -Tango - doesn't even offer such sorbet. A low-class airline, where the middle-class pay for every peanut - Gone are the days of decadence! Gone are my economy-class Teriyaki steak dinners! Changed are the days of air travel. I could go on, could discuss my love for Air Canada as a national symbol and my deteste for Air Transat as a cheap excuse for economy travel, but I won't. What I want to say is that I've spent some of my fondest moments traveling with my Dad; a man who can make any in-flight magazine entertaining, any walk up the cabin an adventure, and any trip a pleasure. Thanks for the trip Dad. |