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Fly Away

Packed in like sardines, the atmosphere is jovial. Besides, we’re in a Kiwi herc, which is more laid back than an American Herc. We take off the puffy red parkas and stash them behind us or under us or on our laps, and try to get comfortable. Nelia and Bill talk of the time they got TV dinners for lunch as if it were the pinnacle of their years of Antarctic experience. Rich Karstens remembers the greasy cheese and butter sandwich and is much less wistful. We get ham sandwiches, chips, candy bars, juice, and fruit: not TV dinners, but not too bad. Nelia and Bill start eating immediately. Bill and Rich are already working on word puzzles. Everyone is chatting. The plane has a very communal feel. The woman across from me works on penguin exhibits at zoos and is going down to observe penguins in their natural habitat. The woman next to me is a biologist. There is a Kiwi military man to my other side, and two men who are to engineer a road across cravassed terrain across from me. The engines start up. Everyone stops chatting. Everyone pulls out the earplugs which had been handed out at check-in. Everyone puts the earplugs in and proceeds to go to sleep, read a book, speak very closely with the person next to them, or pantomine. I opted mostly for sleep. Sometimes, for the pantomine, because it was fun, but nobody else really wanted to play.

Did I mention that we had an awesome chocolate-covered chocolate cookie in our lunch? That was the best part.