Boorish Behaviour

I’m not in a high flying job but I am a high flier of sorts. Thanks to my work, I have to often take off on official flights, which I fancy. The clutch of arlines now operating and dissecting each other’s fares in the battle for fattening bottomlines, have given new meaning to the phrase  ”All’s fair in love and war”.  During these flights, I can’t help but notice that the flying elite, could do with some lessons in  flight etiquette. I have learnt that the more posh the exterior, the more bosh the behaviour. These thoughts of mine, would qualify for litigation under the law of torts.

Once I had to visit our Training Institute in Hyderabad to deliver a lecture. I thought I would go through my meaty notes on the flight. You know the carefully scribbled notes, not the measly notes I get for delivering the lecture. My avian co-passenger ensured that all such noble intentions were put to flight, faster than you could say “Hi Jack”. She  was a well endowed woman, who must have been the reincarnation of Elvis Presley. She gyrated and rocked in her seat so much, her seat must have worn out not only her Blue suede shoes but the seat she was sitting on, as well.  Inspite of observing that I was trying to get some quality work done, perhaps inspired by the altitude, she tried her best to engage me in heighty flighty conversation. Like the idle wind, I heeded her not. Eventually she was  winded by her own eloquence. She also had this habit of pompously demanding water, running the harassed air hostesses off their feet.. After emptying the contents, she would drop the empty pet bottle on the floor and dexterously kick it under the seat in front of her. Sometimes for variety she would kick it under the seat behind her. She was equally adept with either foot, definitely in a league of her own. Had she been of the opposite gender, I’ve no doubt with her footballing skills, she would have made it to the English Premier League. However being so naturally endowed, Manchester United, could be ruled out!

On another occasion, there was this bearded guy, wearing a Purdue University Tee and trade mark bermudas. He kept criticising everything Indian in an American accent, to whoever cared to listen. Never mind that half the people could not  follow what he said. After the plane took off and the Fasten Seat Belt signs were switched off, he unfastened his (seat belt not trouser belt), let one end drop noisily on the floor and reached up to open the overhead bin. What a din he created. Someone had kept a jar of roshogolas next to his laptop. The jar, probably jarred during take off had spilt the not beans but contents on his laptop. He kept howling Ma-del, Ma-del. He wanted to sue the God damn Airlines for ruining the bag of his Ma-del. It took me quite a while to figure out that Ma-del was his way of saying My Dell (laptop). He was really the pits. Ultimately out of the cockpit, came the captain to calm him down. The ABCD in aclumsy bid to clean his beloved Ma–del,  was spilling the syrup of the  roshogolas on quite a few laptops of some very angry passengers. Though none of them screamed Ma-del, I’m sure quite a few like Harbhajan would have liked to scream  Maa-ki….

I’m also quite astounded at the behaviour of some of the upwardly mobile gentry. They will keep talking on these ubiquitous gadgets, the one time sport of the elite, which today every dhobi and doodhwala also sports. Even after the airhostess requests them to switch them off, they continue whispering sweet nothings as though it’s perennially Valentine’s Day. Some of the snatches of conversation I was willy nilly privy too, ran something like this. (i)  Sweety Dear, I’m inside the plane… after being continuously on the phone, isn’t that quite plain? (ii)  Lovey, I’ll be back in 2 days, don’t cry…… For crying out loud, if he really was her Lovey, was he not aware of her itinerary, does he need so much reminding?  (iii) I’ve kept your dinner in the microwave, heat it for only 2 minutes ok? I’ve also stuck a Post it sticker with 2 minutes and also Maggi written on it. Who’s Maggi, silly not a girl,  Maggi noodles re  which take only  2 minutes to cook. Clever of me, no? Ok, 2 minutes, not a minute more. She dictated in  a loud voice, as though expecting the needled passengers to keep minutes of her noodle instructions. If I had a chopstick with me, I would have stuck it in her spare ribs. The ones who really irritate are the ones who will deliberately switch on their mobiles before the airplane comes to a complete halt, in contravention of the instructions of the air hostess. They will brazenly blurt into the mobile: Pinky, I’ve finally  landed. You’ve sent the driver to pick me  up, no? Ok,  don’t get aangrry, I’m just checking yaar.  Yes but why can’t he check after the plane has come to a complete halt? I tried taking a stand against this type of banal banter once. I was roundly and soundly abused. Like Shakespeare I gave it back measure for measure, then shut up. That Kingfisher flight certainly had  plenty of beer as well as boor cases on board.

In conclusion, how can I not mention the passengers who are in such an awful hurry, they cannot wait for the plane to be still? The moment the plane lands they will jump up from their seats, like they have had Mexican jumping beans for lunch and reach out to open the overhead racks. I’ve been racking my brains, to find an answer as to why they do it, to no avail. What’s the hurry? They cannot take their hand baggage and other loot and scoot, can they? After all the doors have to open for the passengers to disembark. Some of them keep such heavy unweildy luggage in the racks, it’s a wonder the racks don’t crack. As those in a hurry juggle with the weighty baggage, there is also the omnipresent danger that the luggage may fall and injure the seated passengers. Unlike Shahrukh, while they carry many packs, most of them are incapable of flaunting a six pack.

One may travel J Class ; unfortunately money cannot buy Class.