Unexpectedly in Sydney today, for reasons not anticipated on Friday when I last left work, but it's all good.
I caught the plane this morning with two people who were either serious drug dealers, or porn merchants, or possibly both. They looked like human lizards, complete with leathery skin, thin necks and reptilian eyes. BIG sunglasses, leopard print shirts - and these were men - and Louis Vuitton pocketbooks being hugged very, very closely. Way too much tanning time on the sunbeds. And the older one, who was white-haired and widely-paunched, was wearing a cream Panama hat with a black ribbon trim. Eeeeuw.
And then nearby in another seat was William H Macy .... or at least, someone who looked very much like him. I wanted to go up to him and shout adoring things at his wrinkly dried apricot face, but I reasoned that William H Macy would not be catching an early-morning Virgin flight from Melbourne to Sydney, and certainly not in economy class.
So I settled back instead, and read the Financial Review.
I quite like plane trips. When going on holiday, I look forward to the plane trip as much as the destination itself.
Plane trips are free time rides. That is, all phones are off, blackberries are off too, no one can email or ring me. It's me-time, of the best sort. All I need to do is sit back, read my paper, perhaps have a little snooze, do some meditation, daydream .... there's no work to be done and no work that can be done.
It's bliss. I dread the day they introduce phones on planes. I keep hearing rumours that they're running trials to see how it goes. And I cringe, thinking about it.
It's bad enough hearing all the details of someone's love life, or boyfriend issues, or work challenges, or any other of the myriad details - all of them banal - that you hear on public transport and in the shops at home.
It's quite another to have to Sit There In Your Seat, unable to escape in any way, while those details pollute the relative calm of the air around you. I shudder just thinking about it.
You never hear anything good when you're forced to hear a stranger's conversation. It's never salacious gossip, or important news, or some witty commentary on the fashion trends sweeping the inner-city tribes of London or the amethyst shade that's destined to become this season's new black.
Oh no, all you get is "I'm on the train/bus/ferry ... I'll be five minutes late .... and then she said .... shall we have fish or sausages for dinner" ...... BORING!!
God forbid the introduction of mobile phones on planes. I'll have to start carrying a parachute to deal with it.