Last week I spoke a bit about some of the un-comforts of long flights. The long check-in lines, the security checks, belts off, shoes off, no liquids and while you're at it no bloody smiling either.
Then you get on the plane and wonder if this is how sheep feel when they are herded to the slaughter.
God help you if you are one of the last to get on the plane. Someone has probably taken your seat as they read the numbers wrong, so you have to politely move them even though they don't speak a word of English and your sign language is apparently not in the official sign language guidebook.
After you get your seat sorted, you then have to squeeze by others who are standing up to take jackets off, put kids in seats or get items from their overhead baggage.
The only problem is because of your tardiness if you are lucky enough to find room in the overhead 12 seats behind yours, meaning you have to take out your gum, magazine, laptop, etc. and place them in the seat back in front of you. If you are unlucky there is no room in the overhead and you have to put your bag under the seat in front and therefore have no leg room left.
Seats and trays in the upright position and off you go.
Speaking of "upright position," the last time I was on a long-haul flight I watched with amazement as a man pushed against the back of the seat in front of him every time the passenger tried to recline his seat. He did this several times until the guy in front figured his seat was broken and didn't try to recline it anymore. Talk about being a big meanie.
We all know the seats on planes are uncomfortable for anything other than a flight from one side of the airport to the other, but what do you do when you are so uncomfortable and you are so tired you can't fall asleep, your legs are starting to jitter with what appears to be restless leg syndrome and you are starting to sweat as your uneasiness is starting to drive your body temperature north.
You have tried reclining the seat, but some bugger behind you keeps pushing it so it won't recline. You have tried sticking your leg out into the aisle for more room, but have been hit by the drinks cart twice and the little girl who tripped over your foot on her way to the bathroom is still crying. You have dropped the tray table down and tried resting your head on it, but it is just not high enough and anyway the people beside you seem to have a problem controlling their bladders and need you to more so they can go to the bathroom for the fifth time in an hour.
Initially I thought of getting a beach ball and blowing it up half way, placing an airplane blanket on it, putting the ball on the tray table and then resting my head on it, but I didn't have a beach ball.
Maybe I could take my shoe laces out, tie them to the back of my seat and wrap them around my head just so the lace was long enough to allow my head to lean forward stopping it a little above the tray table in hopefully a more comfortable position. Then I thought if I took out my shoe laces someone would think I had a bomb in my shoes.
It was only after taking several long-haul flghts that I came upon a workable solution.
The only thing is you can't do this right after take off when the seatbelt light goes off. You also can't do it just before and after the meal or right before landing. But any other time is fine.
You head to the washroom.
Although the washrooms on planes generally tend to be small (nobody is joining the mile-high club in these things) they are private, they tend to be cooler than the rest of the plane, you can put your feet up on the door without worrying someone in front of you might complain, and if you play your cards right you can stay in there for a long time.
On one recent flight I happened upon a washroom at the other end of the plane that was shaped like a triangle. So if you sat on the throne you could stretch your legs way out and they wouldn't hit the wall.
I kept this is mind for when I was getting a bit too uncomfortable and antsy and at the right moment I got out of my seat and went straight for the washroom. Forty five minutes of bliss. Legs stretched out, more side room to let the arms flop, cold water in the tap when I needed it and no one to disturb me.
So now whenever I am on a long-haul flight, after the first washroom rush is over, I wander around the plane to see which washroom has the most leg room and when the time is right I head there for some rest. Even though I may never actually fall asleep, I can be comfortable on my own throne.
