Flying Home

Oh dear God. Did I not like that?! Our smooth flight to Rome was not matched on the way back. After boarding was delayed by about half an hour for reasons unknown, we then sat on the plane to await take-off. As we taxied to the runway, I began to think that we were leaving it a little late before leaving the ground. As it happened, we had turned round and returned to the airport. Naturally, my usual flight nerves were being sharpened by the recent bomb attempts that we’d heard about, and this did not help things. Looking up, I saw some vapour entering the fuselage, which I thought didn’t look very reassuring (the rational part of my brain told me this was probably the cabin pressurizing or something, but I wasn’t listening to Mr. Rational). Also, from my window seat I was able to see the stairs being replaced at the plane’s door, and then an Italian police car arrive. What the hell is going on? It took the captain a while before he decided to tell us that there were concerns over the tyre pressure, and that was the reason for the delay, by which time all sorts of gruesome scenarios had been played out in my head.

Things didn’t improve when we eventually left the ground. A short while into our ascent, the plane hit some seriously rough turbulence. The plane was shaking, dropping, jerking sideways with a ferocity that I considered entirely selfish. Zoë, Alice and myself formed a kind of terrified trio. The deep, reassuring breaths I was taking were becoming so frequent that I was almost hyperventilating, Zoë’s travel sickness had arrived big time and Alice sat rigid in her seat. Speaking to each other later, we decided that had this continued for much longer, I probably would have fainted, Zoe would have thrown up and Alice would have burst into tears!

Anyway, the flight ran smoothly from that point on, and a glass of red wine was very welcome. Much more welcome, in fact, than the sorry excuse for food that they offered us, which was a dry roll containing some kind of alien vegetation, a fruit pastille and two incredibly dry and tasteless biscuits. This was an Italian airline, surely they could have done better than that.

Despite the initial delays, we actually made up a good deal of time in the air and touched down only 30 minutes late, some of us extremely relieved. We have made it home, and now our own beds await our return. There’s nothing like your own bed, is there?