24 March 2008


0830 sunday morning:
I say bye to Tanja, the cats and the rabbits before getting in the cab. The cabbie is a north african with a maxi taxi and no winter tyres. We skid our way to the airport to the sound of swedish jazz on the car radio.

We lift off to Stockholm and I realise I got no anxiety of flying, which is great. We get microwaved paper with cheese.

At Arlanda I take the shuttle bus to terminal 5. I get the bus all to myself. I feel pampered by this. Strange.

After watching my neighbour queues speed past me I check in for the Malaysia flight.
Best part is watching a guy in a golf sweater admonish his family repeatedly that they can't take their soda past the security gates, then ceremoniously drinking the remainder of three soda bottles.

Stealing electricity from Arlanda airport to check email. Nobody send mails on easter morning.

Ushered into a GIGANTIC plane. Malay stewardesses in green sarongs smiles permanently, which must get their cheeks all locked up.
Green sarong woman gives me a hot wet towel.
Green sarong woman gives me orange juice.
Green sarong woman gives me beer.
Green sarong woman takes back the soggy towel.
We lift off.

Seatbelt lights goes off.
Green sarong woman gives me Chicken teriyaki with fried taters.
Somehow the plane has not exploded, crashed or been hijacked yet. I feel silly.

The captain tells us all how pleased he is that we are travelling with him. I wonder how it is that flight captains all have thick accents and if dodgy english correlates with great flying skillz.

I finally figure out the onboard entertainment thingy and realise we already have passed Moscow. The interactive map becomes a bit of an obsession for the next ten hours. It answers all my questions: Where are we now? How fast are we going? What direction is Mekka?

We pass through some hardcore turbulence and I get reaquainted with my fear of death for a while, then just becoming bored and annoyed by the bumpy ride.
Two swedish middle aged guys sit down on the next aisle and get boozed up.

I open the window during an especially rough turn to see if we are pelted with rocks or something. The swedish guy goes all matey and makes some kinda joke (you won't see anything there, sonny). I pretend i don't understand swedish.

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