Saudade of Voyages on a Steel Bird
Checking-in, lounging and waiting, and running to the boarding gate after being called out for my tardiness precede my journey across lands and seas from or to home. And like all good things, these come at a price — at the expense of my less-than-average level of patience with the random thorough security checks, snaking queues at check-in and immigration counters, and unsuccessful negotiations of seat assignment and baggage allowance. Anyways, I enjoyed flying as much as it was a necessity for me, a young adult who studied abroad and went for annual vacations with her family — that’s an average of six to eight flights per year, not counting the additional flights I may take — an exhausting-yet-unavoidable layover, or an all-expense paid conference trip. However frazzled I was due to my finals that probably ended less than 12 hours before I left for the airport for two of those flights, or due to the lack of sleep from packing and panicking in the eleventh hour, not much is more stimulating than a brisk promenade through the skybridge, and the rich perspective I get of the world beneath, during takeoff and landing.
All of that now has been history, since the last time I was on an airplane — returning home during the pandemic after a confusing and anxious wait at the check-in coutner — Friday, July 09, 2020. And just like all good things I bid adieu to in the painfully unforgettable year of 2020, the nostalgia of flying also turned into a lesson of satisfaction and gratitude.
How I now crave for the discomfort of the person behind me kicking on my seat and the person in front of me reclining during meals. How I crave for the noise of crying todd.. no, scratch that. I can’t tolerate crying noises when I’m trying to forget my own sorrows and soaking in the inflight entertainment on tiny screens or embracing my fatigue to curl up and fall asleep in a seat that doesn’t always recline. And I don’t mean to be rude, I hold the parents in high respect for taking care of the littlest passengers, but when you’ve had a rough time before the flight, the crying can unfortunately get uncomfortable, and weirdly, make you sad too. Anyways, these occassional discomforts few times a year subtly taught me how to adapt to any situation and perhaps raised my tolerance levels by a wee bit.
Believe it or not, I do miss airline food. It wasn’t always terrible. Gourmet meals on a tray 35,000 feet high in the stratosphere sure is a luxury, regardless of how they taste. Salted cookies and peanuts are never bad. I have always been taught to thank the Lord for what comes from his magnanimous bounty, and that applies to airline cuisine as well. Airline food helped me appreciate the finer things in life, and heighten my sense of taste as I seek an essence of flavour in a bland meal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not always bad. The dessert, if chocolate and coleslaw, is always nice. Food when served anywhere should be gratefully received because we never know when a 2020-esque age will dawn upon us that will lock us and leave us wishing for a less monotonous diet.
And very importantly, I didn’t appreciate enough the powerful gift of ‘service at the touch of a button’. Sometimes I would complain when the cabin crew ignores my frantic calls for water or to answer my complains about an annoying co-passenger. I would make sure I write a strong feedback (more like a critique) if a member of the cabin crew was rude or inconsiderate based on sometimes a five minute interaction. I am generally aware of what’s expected of cabin crew and what their duties constitute, and am often satisfied. But living for longer than usual at home, I realise that their job gets exhausting with increasing number of requests and the increasing number of hours they have to be on call. Not that I have been doing a lot of chores myself, but my mother is always on her toes with only two other adults and teen at home.
Every time I look out of my window and see a flying airplane in the distance, I can only dream of the time I can be treated to views of lands and seas below, and fly through the crismon red and dark blue skies at dawn and twilight. With the Horizon of the Saudade playing in the background, I reminisce my flights and wrap up the expression of my saudade of voyaging above the clouds.
