No Snakes On This Plane, There Was Only Mags

It’s amazing what can happen in a sealed capsule hurtling through the stratosphere at 30,000 feet.

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

I had just one of these experiences earlier this week on an interstate trip. Because on this flight I sat next to Mags (not her real name).

The experience started tentatively enough after a two hour delay in departure time due to weather at the destination. Apparently in these situations the destination air traffic control can determine the take off time at the point of departure. And so it was.

I dutifully boarded the plan after killing two hours watching bad television and reading even worse gossip magazines and settled into the window seat in what was a two seat configuration. Then along came Mags, worry lines on her pale English Rose features carrying three bags. She stopped in the aisle to check her boarding pass, causing a blockage to the people behind much like a cork stopping the flow of fizzy champagne refusing to be tamed. Oblivious to the swarm behind her, Mags checked her seat number and looked at me, before starting to unload her luggage. She looked at me again and having sensed that she was to be my flight companion for the next hour or so I said hello as she settled herself.

“I really don’t want to be on this flight” explained Mags.

“Oh?” I asked

“I don’t like flying and now its raining and storming and I don’t understand why they are letting us fly.”

“They did say the weather was clearing where we are going to land, I wouldn’t worry so much”

“I don’t like it and my web mail is iffy, I don’t know whether my friend who is meeting me got my message that we are going to be late”

“I’m sure it will be fine”

“I hope so, my friends told me this trip was risky.”

Mags then explained that she was on the solo trip of her dreams, lasting 6 months. She had been away from her English home for about a month now and had taken off to the other side of the world to explore Australia and New Zealand. She was flying into Sydney to meet some friends before undertaking the Indo Pacific train trip to Perth (a three day journey) and would then be visiting New Zealand’s south island for a month. Being a travel tragic, I was keen to hear about everything she had planned for her travels and her expectations about her experiences so I asked her a few questions. At which point the conversation really started to flow.

We covered all sorts of topics, England, Australia, travelling in general, marriage, men, divorce ( Mags was a divorcee), parenting (Mags was also the mother of two sons), health (Mags had had a hysterectomy just as her husband left her), study (Mags was a late blooming student, having attended university after she had children), friends (Mags had many – it was not hard to see why), ageing, and being adventurous to name a few.

About a quarter of the way into our conversation, I knew Mags was my kind of woman.

We stopping talking only briefly with the announcement from the pilot that the plane had to circle just outside of Canberra due to delays in Sydney. And we only stopped then because we could not hear each other over the intercom.

Mags was incredible. Here was a 70 year old woman who was travelling solo on the trip of her dreams, having taken out a personal loan to do so. She was doing this despite her comfortable life back home and the advice of her friends who would never dare to embark on such a journey. On this trip she would be staying with former lodgers or family of former lodgers of hers all of whom had helped Mags pay the bills on her home to save it from her husband who tried to take it away.

This was a woman who despite her fear of flying had more courage and grit than a lot of people I know.

At the start of the descent, I turned to Mags and said ‘I’m sorry, we’ve been talking for two hours and I don’t even know your name, I’m Judy.”

“I’m Mags, I am so happy to have met you, I would have been very stressed had I not been able to talk to you.”

And with that the wheels touched down on the runway below.

My short time with Mags had come to an end. In two hours I had told Mags more personal information than a lot of people I had known for two years and felt that Mags had done the same. Maybe we both felt safe in the knowledge that apart from this brief encounter we would never meet again, maybe it was because of the brief moment of connection we had shared or maybe because Mags just needed to be distracted during the flight.

Whatever the case, I will never forget Mags. Right about now, she should be getting ready to board that train to Perth, no doubt talking the ear off the person next to her.

Mags made my trip. Her pluck, courage and welcoming visage were a gift.

And dear Mags, you thought on that flight I was doing you a favour. Ha!

Have you ever been touched by a stranger?

A Pre Apocolyptic Public Service Anouncement To All But The Kiwis

I have always been proud to be an Australian. Being an Aussie is seriously cool, people swoon at our accent, they love our laid back attitude and envy our natural surroundings.

What they don’t envy though is our time zone. Our time zone is seriously unforgiving, particularly if you want to do business or socialize with Europe or the East Coast of the United States. Even more so if you want to be awake, astute and passably witty whilst carrying out your obligation to your employer to turn up during local business hours. And by that I mean turn up not only in body, but also in soul and mind.

We are also slightly confused because at present there are four timezones operating in our wonderful nation. The refusal to operate under daylight savings times by some States introduces a fourth time zone for the summer months. Don’t worry Queenslanders, your curtains and cows are still safe, experiencing less daylight hours than everyone else. Don’t forget the SPF 55 sunblock!

However, there are also a few advantages that come with that timezone.

We are amongst the leaders of the pack when it comes to experiencing worldwide events that are tied to a fixed universal time. New Year’s Eve, we’re one of the first to click over. Christmas, we’ve unwrapped, stuffed ourselves and ho, ho hoed long before most of you guys have even gone to bed for your Christmas Eve slumber.

We are at the forefront of time zonage to pretty much all other countries other than New Zealand and a few Pacific island nations.

So to all my international readers who are still in yesterday this is my pre apoclyptic public service announcement to you.

It is now roughly 9am, 21 December 2012, eastern daylight saving time. There are no Mayans or Mayan spirits to be seen. The second last page of the Mayan calendar has been ripped off its hinges and discarded, actually no, hang on… that was a 2-year-old Oreo cookie that just rolled out from behind the maple syrup (yes, we have them here – Vanilla, Chocolate and Strawberry in fact).

So far, the only evidence of an apocalypse are:

the state of my closet – what does one actually wear to an apocalypse?
our Government finally admitting that there will be no budget surplus this year;
the current state of Australian cricket;
the number of Baked Beans tins in my pantry (one can never be over prepared);
the state of Australian reality TV; and
the state of my kids’ rooms.

There are however 15 hours to go.

Just wondering if the Mayans were timezone sensitive. Maybe for us Aussies it all ends on the 22nd and we have been lulled into a false sense of security.

D’ang, I will now have to return all the end of the world on the 21st Mayan merchandise

The good thing is that we have the ~~New Zealanders~~ Kiwis, who are two hours ahead, to stand in the way of us and the apocalypse. New Zealand, we will be watching, whilst the rest of the world watches us.

Fear not, we Australians will sacrifice ourselves and the Kiwis for the greater international cause. We will be your apocalyptic guinea pigs!!

And the Mayans better get cracking on continuing the calendar. My desktop flip calendar is just crying out for some forward thinking Mayan wisdom and witticism. A suggestion though, the next version should be in the shape of a carrot… the world is now far more health conscious about its calendars.

In the meantime, dear readers…