Travel Journal, 38

Through an unforeseen line of events, we now had to fly to London. Originally, we were scheduled to fly home from Johannesburg, South Africa on a direct flight to the US. That flight is nearly 17 hours long and spans from Atlanta to Johannesburg. And it is as long as it sounds. We were devastated that our already long trip home was now going to take even longer. We were able to reroute through London on Virgin Atlantic. There was a bit of good news, though. We’d have a small break between flying. Nobody wants to be on a plane for 17 hours.

I walked into the far aisle of our Boeing 767 aircraft and began glancing down at my ticket and up at the seat numbers. My seat was in the upper 30s. I must have looked like I was nodding—up and down, like a fool. My wife and I found our seats. And they were terrible. At some point in a large plane, the width of the aircraft shrinks. This means that a plane with seven seats across may dwindle down to five. And when it does, the seats in that row have rigid arm-rests in which tray tables are stored. If there is a way to make an airplane seat feel smaller, this is how.

Throughout the flight we dozed, watched movies, read, and I did a little writing. But even though this flight was shorter, it felt just as long as the one we were supposed to be on. Finally, with a pair of earplugs embedded in my scull, I fell asleep in an awkward position.

A faint donging noise sounded overhead. I pulled the eyeshade up and blinked. An announcement cracked but nobody moved. I pulled out an earplug just in time to hear, “…doctor on board?”

This piqued my interest, though I’m nobody’s surgeon. I am, however, a lowly ol’ paramedic who wanders the streets at night, lifting the sick-and-injured (and not-so-sick-and-injured) from the depths of the unhealthy darkness. I looked around at my fellow passengers. Nobody moved. In fact, everybody was asleep. My watch read 2 a.m. But I’m not sure which time zone. I took another glance around and made the decision to go to the front of the aircraft.

“I’m not a doctor, but I can help.” I said this to the small group of attendants huddled around a woman on the floor. She was laying in the middle of the floor in the bar area. And yes, this plane had a bar. “

I’m Terrence,” said a British man in a uniform, “the purser on this flight.”

I introduced myself and said that I was a paramedic. He looked scared and balked, “oh I’m glad you’re here. I think we may have to divert to Spain!”

anthony forrest

Part 2 to be published next Thursday, the 21st of November