The gentleman next to me has gone to the bathroom – thank goodness - so I take a minute to stretch and fidget, and console myself with the fact that we’re almost there. Half an hour left. Maybe a little more. Then I get to see Mike and the kids for the first time in nearly a week. My seat tray is still folded down, the half-eaten remains of what they had the nerve to call a meal still sitting on top of it. Thought they’d have tidied everything away by now, but now that I think about it, I haven’t seen a stewardess in a while. I heard something about a passenger getting sick about an hour back. Maybe that’s it. I feel for the person, don’t get me wrong, but come on. We’ve all been sitting here with our trays in front of us for way too long now. How many cabin crew does it take to look after one sick person? I wanted to get some writing done, but I can’t with this plate of mashed-up… whatever it’s supposed to be sitting there.
