Imagine this scenario: I find myself on the (pre) runway in Cairns Airport, occupying a cramped Boeing 737, which felt like a mere speck compared to the massive Singapore Airlines 747/400 that took me to Australia. The compact seating arrangement of 3/3 rows made me exceptionally claustrophobic. As our aircraft was approaching the takeoff point, my heart rate increased and my body was covered in sweat as I wrestled with grim thoughts about meeting an untimely end through a fatal crash. There was truly no doubt in my mind - at that moment, I felt convinced that death awaited me.
Shortly after the stewards began the safety instructions, it was clear that we were now underway. In a dramatic act of being 21 and foolish, I unfastened my belt and quickly bolted down the aisle of the moving aircraft. Fearing for my life, I frantically yelled at one of the flight attendants who remarkably resembled a character from an old TV show "prisoner cell block H". Breathing heavily, I positioned myself directly in front on her and shouted with tears in my eyes "I need to get off this plane!" Swiftly responding to my outburst, she retorted sternly looking me dead in the eyes and pointing "get back to your seat NOW". At this point, all hope seemed lost as ultimate doom seemingly loomed ahead for me.
After what felt like being reprimanded by the headmaster, I skulked back to my seat with a lowered head like a mischievous child, only to find my mother and sister shaking their heads disapprovingly feeling slightly less embarrassed than me. A LOT of wine was consumed during the flight and no, we didn’t crash, however as we touched down in Brisbane it quickly occurred to me that I had a 24 hour flight back to the UK in a few days………….