Flyin' High
December 5, 2006

So in me day, I’ve been known to open me eyes at 5.45, reach the pool by 6.45, swim 50 lengths, drive 120 miles to work, manage a live TV show with a team of 50+, take 30 calls, hold 10 meetings, answer 50 emails, budget 2 news shows, walk the dog, do the shopping, cook the dinner – eh up, am getting carried away now, the most I can do in the kitchen is turn the oven on.

Anyway, all that in one day.

So why does a trip on an aircraft send me stress levels over the edge?

I arrive at the check in desk, whiz past a 4 mile queue (getting mucky looks from folks) and have to prepare myself for World War 3.

I tell em whatever they want to hear.

“Me under carriage is wet, dry or gel”

Whatever the regulations are for taking batteries, I meet them.

For the first 25 years of me life, I'd practiced bursting in tears about 40 minutes into battle, it was a wonderful piece of dramatic art, but sadly am just getting too old for that now.

So I am pleased to announce that my recent trip to London was completely hassle free, thanks to British Airways and the ground crew at Heathrow.

It’s amazing what a couple of emails to the right people can achieve.

But it’s never uneventful traveling with me.

Always up for a frisking, I march into the security area to be asked

“Does anywhere hurt?”

My head always goes to the Grease movie scene where Olivia Newton John says

“Fee eel your way”

Cause I just say

“No, go head”

But they always spoil me fun by ensuring it’s a woman.

And their always big and butch with missing teeth and love handles.

Bloody regulations!

But I took no chances on this recent trip and decided to take a spare battery box in the carry on for me wheelchair, just in case the loaders get clumsy.

This meant I am the only person in the International Departure area waltzing through security with what can only be described as the closest possible looking object you could ever get to resemble an explosive device - in ya bag.

So in I go, bracing myself for a 40 man bomb squad to appear.

I live in hope!

And instead the guy behind the screen shouts

“Is that lipstick in your bag?”

“Ey, Estee Lauder, but it’s not your color”

Now I must say though, priority boarding is a nice touch and is added to that pro’s list of sitting on your arse all day that I’ve got going.

Plus it’s always a bonus to get ya bags, ya cushion, ya control box, ya armrest and ya footplate in the overhead locker before they get full.

And although am traveling cattle am treated like club as the director of cabin service’s showers me with Osborne and Little pillows and extra blankets – bless!

This time I got terribly excited over the serving of real English Cadbury’s chocolate, which obviously showed as the flight attendant came back to me with six bars.

And so I was left munching through them, thinking fat is the new thin and observing the distinguished gentleman to my left continuously lifting his right buttock up and down creating his own turbulence and the two students to my right get excited over the prospect that the flight had provided the completion of their Xmas shopping as I watch them stash the cute bottles of complimentary wine two by two in their bags.

An ingenious idea that I decide to take part in and end up out doing them by 4 bottles - that nice director of cabin services again – bless!

Ever generous though I hand over my stash to them and wish them and their friends and family a Merry Xmas.

Flyin high me, flyin high!

—Tash x