Fly Bye

I’ll never wear red lipstick again. I probably won’t wear lipstick at all. Or ridiculous pointy shoes that pinch my toes. And I certainly won’t scrape my hair back in this uncomfortable bun and…

“What are you going to do with yourself all day? You’ll be bored rigid,” says Kelly, her plastered on smile vanishing as the final passenger shuffles down the aisle.

“I think I’m…”

“You’re not going to join a knitting circle, are you?” she asks, her eyes widening. “Or take up scrabble, or…”

“Jesus Kelly, I’m retiring not checking into a nursing home.”

She giggles and throws me the briefing kit bag: “You might as well do the safety announcement as it’s going to be your last one ever.”

I chuck it into the corner and follow her into economy, slamming shut overhead lockers and yanking seats into the upright position. My top lip curls as I pick my way through the jam-packed rows of returning holiday makers, the smell of coconut sunscreen and over brewed coffee swirling round the cabin.

I freeze when I reach the mid-section and notice a woman attempting to wedge an almost life size replica of the Parthenon into the storage compartment. She sways left and right as she teeters on the edge of the armrest.

“Madam, I think we’ll need to check that item.”

“No, no, it’s going to fit,” she says slinging rucksacks out of the way and dropping a handbag onto the man sitting in front of her.

“Hey, watch out you stupid …”

“… Who are you calling stupid,” she snaps. “You’re the one that’s…”

“It’s going in the hold,” says Kelly striding past and whipping the Greek temple from the woman’s grasp.

I keep my head down as I trot behind her. Three hours, 27 minutes and… I glance at my watch, oh 15 seconds to go…

“Hey, hey miss.”

A hand tugs my jacket, and I spin round, fighting the urge to karate chop the woman’s arm.

“Madam?”

Her pale face peeps out from beneath the beige airline blanket and she’s clutching a book to her chest. I scan the title, and roll my eyes, ‘I came, I soar, I conquered – fix your fear of flying’.

I knew it. The nervous ones always like to tell you how nervous they are. I bet she’s after a drink.

“I need a gin and tonic,” she whispers. “A really, really large one.”

“I’m sorry madam, but we don’t start serving drinks until we’re in the air…”

“… Oh God,” she says, clasping the pendant around her neck and starting to rock. “Do planes crash often?”

“No, madam,” I say, flashing her a smile and winking. “Just the once.”

I dive into the galley before she has time to ask anything else, wondering if it’s illegal or just unethical to disable her call bell. Kelly springs out of her seat as I yank the curtain closed behind me.

“Oh, thank God it’s just you,” she says, slumping back down and bumping shoulders with Marius, who’s sipping on a diet Coke.

“Obviously I don’t like any of them,” he says. “But the passenger in 12b is giving me bad vibes. He looks shifty.”

“Shifty annoying or shifty creepy?” asks Kelly.

‘Cabin crew – arm doors and cross check.’

“Oop, showtime,” I huff, plucking the kit bag from the corner and ripping the curtain open. “Tell me later.”

I position myself at the front of the plane, holding up the oxygen mask like I’m in a second-rate magic show. I squint into the gloom. There’s not a single person looking at me. I really don’t know why we bother. It’s not like anyone listens to the safety briefings. On the way back from Edinburgh last week, Karen accidentally played the announcement in Mandarin, and nobody said a word.

It's hard to believe this is really it though. The end. My final flight. I don’t ever want to set foot on a plane again after this, not even to go on holiday. I stuff the items back into the kitbag and peek out of the window as we bump along the taxiway. The baggage handlers zip across the tarmac in their luggage carts. I wonder if I’ll… what the…

My eyes narrow as the man from seat 12b barrels down the aisle, oblivious to the Mexican wave of scowling and tutting from his fellow passengers. We lock eyes as he cannons off the seats, lurching right and left, clutching at headrests. He’s almost to the front, when he hesitates, finally noticing my folded arms and flaming cheeks.

“I want you to…”

“… Get back to your seat,” I hiss. “The seat belt sign is on.”

I wait until he’s scuttled back to his row and is clipping in his seatbelt before I head into the galley. Three hours, 15 minutes and… 3 seconds to go…

“Stop looking at your watch,” says Kelly as I slide into the seat next to her. “You’re not going to make the time go any faster.”

I sit on my hands and brace for take-off, closing my eyes as I imagine the sunlight sparkling on the turquoise blue water below, the sailboats bobbing and pirouetting through the waves as we skim overhead.

‘We’ve now reached our cruising altitude of flight level three-two-zero. I’ll go ahead and turn off the seat belt sign…’

Oh god, already. Another two minutes would’ve been nice. It’s so much easier when the passengers are all strapped in and unable to move, hostage style.

My knees creak as I push myself out of the jump seat, and I give Kelly a thumbs up when she directs Marius and I to the back of the cabin. As we wheel the trolley along the aisle, a woman taps my arm.

“Can you get that baby over there to stop crying,” she says, scowling and pointing towards the row in front. “It’s doing my head in.”

Before I can reply, a man in the opposite row, clicks his fingers and calls out: “Can I move seats? I didn’t realize that this was in the middle when I booked it. It looks like there’s a spare one over there so…”

We’re all distracted by the passenger from 12b who leaps up and tries to barge past Marius.

“Excuse me sir,” says Marius. “Can you please return to your seat until we’re through.”

“I need to get…”

“… back into your seat,” growls Marius. “Now.”

We stare at his retreating back and Marius mutters that he’s seriously considering retraining as an assassin.

“Did you remember to grab the extra set of cups on the side?” he asks.

I shake my head and dash back towards the galley. Kelly is leaning against the counter, scrolling on her phone and waiting for the coffee pot to boil.

"Did you see the lady cutting her toenails on the tray table?”

“Yuck, no,” I say. “But I thought I’d leave the couple doing yoga next to the bathrooms for you to handle.”

She giggles: “You’ll miss all this won’t you.”

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Two hours, 45 minutes and….”

We turn as the curtain is ripped open, the passenger from 12b looming in the doorway, blocking out the light from the main cabin. Marius was right. He does look shifty. Maybe it’s his weird side parting or the way his left eye twitches… or perhaps it’s the gun in his right hand...

… Wait, a gun. How did he even get that on board?

“I want you to open cockpit door,” he says. “I’m taking over the plane. I want the pilot to fly to Melbourne.”

Melbourne. How long’s that going to take.

“Open the door,” he hisses, jabbing the gun in Kelly’s side.

He whirls round as Marius bursts into the galley, and I take advantage of the kerfuffle to karate chop him in the throat, following it up with a sharp kick to his knee. The man from 12b slumps to the ground, clutching his neck and whimpering, the gun skittering underneath the jump seat.

“Not a chance,” I say, bending down and retrieving the gun, waving it in his direction. “There’s no way my last flight is dragging on even longer than it’s supposed to.”

“And I thought it was because you were trying to save me,” says Kelly, rolling her eyes.

“Need some assistance?”

The voice belongs to a tall woman with bright red curly hair who squeezes into the now very crowded galley area, holding up a warrant card and a pair of handcuffs.

“I’m Zoe Morris, a firearms officer with SCO19. I’ll take it from here.”

We step back as she hauls the man from 12b into the one of the jump seats and secures his hands and feet. He doesn’t look so shifty now, just a little broken, the skin on his neck already turning a deep shade of purple.

What a last flight.

“We’d better get back to serving the drinks or we’ll have a riot on our hands as well as a botched hijacking,” says Marius, wrapping his arms around me and Kelly and pulling us into a hug.

Kelly grabs my hand as I try to leave: “You know the company is going to reward you for this,” she giggles. “They’ll give you a free flight to go anywhere you want.”

“Not a chance,” I say, closing my eyes and shuddering. “I’ll trade in those tickets and take a cruise instead.”