55C. 

A father. He is not a new one, the man has experience. It’s obvious from the scarce hair swirling around the perimeter of his head, the short shorts, the socks and sandals, and the airport hoodie. Cheap plastic airline headphones are wrapped snugly around his head. His eyes are glued to the Inflight Entertainment System ahead. Top Gun: Maverick. The definitive dad film. 

He occasionally turns in his chair as if he is being watched. 

Food arrives. He enquires about the vegan option that he had requested for his daughter in 55A. He is polite about it, a simple mistake from the flight attendant. 

The aeroplane comes to a stop. A questionnaire appears on the father’s Inflight Entertainment System. 

“How was your seat? How was your food? How was your service? How was your flight experience?”

He moves his finger across each fifth star

“Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome! That was awesome!” 

His daughter turns and covers her face. His wife giggles. 

54C. 

A ten-year-old boy. He jams his finger against the Inflight Entertainment System playing a crudely made game of mini golf. It looks as if it was made in a day. Not that it bothers the boy. He tees off on the first level, a straight spiral to the hole. Simple enough. The boy aims, sets his power, and nails the first shot. All he has to do is nail the second for Birdie. He misses and restarts. Not good enough. He wants to be perfect. He quits and re-opens the game. He quits again. And again. And again. Pressing harder on the Inflight Entertainment System each attempt. Before long, he gets it, clean birdy. Onto the second hole. Mistake. Restart. He never makes a perfect game over the eight hour flight. Eighteen holes is a tall order for a kid his age. Later, in the bathroom, he misses again thanks to some unexpected turbulence. 

53B. 

The young father taking his five-year-old daughter on her first flight. It is hard to tell who is more anxious. She takes his hand. He comforts her? “We are taking off now, hold my hand it is going to go very fast and we are going to go into the air, just like an aeroplane.” They squeeze each other tightly. He watches over her the entire flight, only half watching a random episode of the fourth season of Suits. She watches Bubble Guppies. He finishes her meal and promises her a hash brown from McDonalds when they land. Seven hours in, they attempt sleep. He hands her a small eye mask. She quickly discards it. He sleeps like a rock. She does not. At some point in the darkness, she looks around to find herself the only one awake. She curls into her chair as much as her seatbelt lets her, and covers herself in a thin blanket. She doesn’t sleep until the aeroplane comes to land, where she passes out in her father’s arms as they exit. He carries her all the way to her new bed. 

54D. 

Dinner time. 54D is chomping at the bit. The trolleys come barrelling down the aisle, bumping the unsuspecting stretched-out legs of those watching The Fablemans on their Inflight Entertainment System. 

“Oop! Sorry to bump you there!” Essential language. “Coming through.” 

54D looks ahead in anticipation; the chicken? Or the salmon? No one is taking the salmon, whatever could be wrong with it?

“What can I get for you?”

“Chicken please.”

The flight attendant pulls out the chicken and places it on a slippery tray. They tong a surprisingly soft garlic roll onto the pile for good measure. A few rows ahead is the drinks cart. On top, a selection of mineral water, fizzy drinks, apple juice, orange juice, and empty cups for the tea and coffee which never arrives. Down the side of the cart, a selection of spirits: whisky, gin, vodka. The cart comes to a stop in front of 54D. They wait for their moment. The flight attendant turns to 54C. 54D sneaks a bottle of whiskey. Clean and simple. 

“And what can I get for you?

“What are these here?

“These here are all alcoholic, so a selection of spirits: whisky, gin, vodka.”

“Oh I would love one of those thank you.”

Later, the flight attendant collects the rubbish and takes both of 54D’s bottles. They do not care and will forget about the encounter the next day. 

55D. 

A young man sits and watches. The screen of his Inflight Entertainment System is off, although he turns it on intermittently to see the flight timer. Fifteen hours to your destination. Two hours to your destination. Seven hours to your destination. His ears are enveloped in noise-cancelling headphones. He is listening to something loud, though nothing that will cause hearing damage. He doesn’t sit still for a moment of the flight. He is always bumbling his knee, nodding his head, or rocking his foot. Sometimes slow. Mostly fast. Sometimes he closes his eyes and quietly mouths a chorus. His waggling foot is hit by the food trolley. 

“Oop! Sorry to bump you there!”

“No no, sorry I had my leg out. My bad.” 

For the majority of the flight, he sits with his fresh journal in hand and watches. The first lines on the page: “weird one-sided relationships on…” and so on. 

What does fifteen hours’ worth of writing look like?

53E. 

A young mother holding her newborn. She laps her row, checking in on her own. “Isn’t this fun!” “How is she doing?” “You okay there bub?” She has a calm voice. Her eyes are anything but. It is a well-organised family unit, but the stress is there all the same. Why take such a large group of children on a long-haul flight? The list of reasons mustn’t be long: funeral, wedding, general family visit. All hardly justifiable. The mother crouches next to her eldest, he seems agitated. 

“Wow, nice shot. Perhaps take a break soon bub?”

“I hate this game it is stupid.”

“Well, that is why you should maybe take a break, watch a movie maybe? Or try and get some sleep if you can.” 

She is the last on the aeroplane to eat her meal. It takes her so long she is still eating when the rubbish collection comes. Like her daughter, her sleep is scarce and interrupted. The perfect way to begin a holiday. 

55H. 55J. 55I. 

The most active elderly people on earth. It is a long flight running through the day. While most are happy to sit and risk deep vein thrombosis, these three elderly folks certainly aren’t. Every hour, almost on the dot, they stand to walk up and down the aisle. Then they run through a series of stretches that almost, but don’t quite enter the personal space of those in 54G, 55G, 56G, 54H, and 56H. Not that personal space is too much of a worry for the active gentleman in 55H, who quite confidently watches YouTube Shorts on his phone at full volume. He views each short twice, first holding his phone to his ear. He listens to Ten Interesting Facts About Fighter Jets, and Unbelievable Britain’s Got Talent Audition Must Watch. Then, he holds the phone close to his eyes and watches Ten Interesting Facts About Fighter Jets, and Unbelievable Britain’s Got Talent Audition Must Watch. No one bothers them, and they leave the flight with large grins, fresh legs, and happy memories of Susan Boyle. 

53C. 

A toddler in the extra legroom seat. They’re too big to sit in their parent’s seat but too new to the world to understand where they are or what exactly is happening. They stare at the menu of the Inflight Entertainment System, hypnotised and dumbfounded. Time moves endlessly forward. They sit and watch. A young woman walks past and stops to make a face, “She is so cute!” Not a single tear is shed over the entire four-hour flight. It’s remarkable. Of all of the passengers on this tiny aeroplane, this one seems truly at peace. Just wait until she starts kindergarten. 

45E. 

A young woman. “Lucky us!” she says to the person in 54G. 54E is vacant. Extra room to put all of the airline rubbish neatly prepared on each seat. When the cabin comes to its darkest, everyone falls asleep. The young woman pulls out her 2015 MacBook Air and creates a new document titled “Kelsey and Ric wedding prep.” Her screen is at full brightness, waking those who can see through the cracks of the chairs. She begins writing: 

“Today, we bring 2 loves together, joined by love and marriage. But more than that, we bring together 2 families. 2 countries 2 cultures. A connection so important in a world that has been so far apart in recent years.” 

It is quite touching. She smiles as she writes, three small bottles of wine in. As the cabin begins to light she decides it is time for a nap. She reclines. She is still asleep come breakfast, and the flight attendant says 

“Would you like me to wake her to put her chair up so you can eat?” to 55E. 

“No, it’s okay they’re fine.” 

“I can, it won’t be a problem.”

“No no no. Please don’t.” 

Who would want confrontation on an aeroplane?

Hours upon hours, tightly packed in with total strangers who will likely never see or speak to each other again. Not that anyone has spoken a word to each other besides a timid “hi,” “can I sneak past,” and “sure.” What would be the need for conversation? They disembark the same way they boarded. They stand sensually close to each other, bags held tight to chests, avoiding the briefest of eye contact with one another, preferring to look to the brown spot on the ceiling, or the armrest held together with duct tape. They look to anything, anything but each other. Because who would want that kind of inflight entertainment?

Thank you very much Madison Palmer for drawing : )