The day started well. 4 suitcases, 3 hand-luggage bags, 2
strollers, 2 kids and 2 adults arrived in time to catch the Hoppa bus to
Terminal 4. This is the day that for sure I know there is a God and he had given Brendon protection from me. Brendon was a little pale on arriving at the
check-in as there was a lady and a man free for check-in. Colour returned as he
saw the man’s hand signalling us to step forward as later he explained that you
should never go to a woman if you have extra baggage. Even though we had
off-loaded our extra 20kgs of check-in luggage with Cobus and Ulrike we were
still overweight on our hand luggage. The man carefully did the calculations
while we held our breath, gave Brendon a pass to the business class lounge and
handed him the boarding passes and passports back. Phew! Step 1 – check. Next
was security. Our liquids were in a little bag, belts off, laptops out,
strollers packed up. This part of the process is Brendon’s nemesis. He eyed the
convoy of bags through the scanner and under his breath said. They have one of
the bags! I politely went over to retrieve it and answered the security
officer’s questions about liquids and sharp instruments honestly. I told him
that there were no liquids and sharp items but amongst other things presents in
the bag for the kids and I would prefer they did not see them. He must have had
the gift of discernment (or a wife and kids) because he suggested I let Brendon
sort through the bag with him and I step away with Owen and Erin. In hindsight it was the
right thing to do. He scratched through the bag and eventually pulled out a
full large zip-loc bag containing 6 sunscreens (each one over the 100ml limit)
that I had asked Brendon to put in the checked-in luggage the day before.
Before I knew it a non-fruit of the spirit word flew out my mouth silently as
they both looked up at me. I must have resembled Cruella deville as they both
looked visibly moved! Brendon looked guttered at the prospect of a 6 hour
flight with nowhere to escape to while listening to me yarning on about the
incident. The security officer looked like he also had a wife and recognised
the scale of the matter. He politely asked Brendon if he would like to check
the bag in. “Yes, I really would appreciate that!” Brendon said. The problem
was not the cost of money (which amounted to more than £ 100) but the fact that
I had embarked on a painful 6 week research of chemical and mineral sunscreens
to find the ones that suits each one of our skins and in a blink of an eye they
would be in the bin and I would be on our way back to Doha with no
sun-protection.
After calming down I sat next to the security exit with the
cherubs thinking how relieved Brendon must be feeling about dodging the bullet
on that one. My eyes gazed down to the boarding passes he left with me.
Boarding time: 09:50. Seat number: 49E!!!!! What the blazes!! I was expecting
10 or 11 E not an extra 30 rows behind that. This was the worst seat
reservation in our almost 13 years of marriage. This was unacceptable. Brendon
was sure to see an upside down smile greeting his right way up smile when he
came around the corner. He was in for the high jump again. Let me begin by saying that I know I am extremely
blessed by even having the opportunity to fly. I know that. I am grateful. But
over the years I have become anxious about flying, to the point of nausea. I am always convinced that
the tail of the aircraft will fall off on take off or landing. Statistics show
that those who die in an aircraft are the ones that sit in the very back of the
aircraft. And where were we located? 4 rows from the VERY back! I was not a happy camper.
Brendon apologised for his inconsistency in getting it right all the time but
he was happy to let it go this one time because he felt that spending too much
time with the check-in person might raise an awareness about our hand luggage
weight. I did not let it rest and was still grumbling 1 hour into the flight
about our rubbish seats. Eventually the novelty wore off and I stopped playing
the broken record.
6 hours and an uneventful flight later we had to buckle up
for landing. One more time of holding my breath, expecting to be skidding along
the tarmac with metal sparks flying around while looking at the rest of the plane detach from the
tail end, we touched down in Doha. It was not our day to die! I told Brendon, who had stood up to leave, that
he had better take a seat as there were 30 rows ahead of us that had to
disembark first. The dissatisfaction with the seat number was rearing its head again. He was all ready with the hand luggage when the aircraft personnel
announced over the intercom that we would be disembarking from the rear of the
aircraft. Brendon saw his moment of glory and piped up “All is well that ends
well!" God shone down on Brendon today! I later apologised for being the
world’s worst wife with a dog-with-a-bone personality! Moral of the story: to keep the weight down, keep the credit card away from the wife! I see the error of my ways!
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