Post by itssamanthatulloch on Aug 13, 2014 20:04:04 GMT
For the majority of the nation, the Christmas season was a time of festivity and cheer; the heart-warming aromas of cinnamon and peppermint on the chilly arctic breeze. Where children and adult alike sing carols in the snow, and the television circuits are packed near to bursting with Christmas specials and incessant commercials for the latest must have toys and gadgets, whose pixelated presence coinciding with the holidays is no mere accident, as ‘tis the season of mass purchasing for everyone’s Christmas presents, which are often a mishmash of both the impulsive and semi planned-in-advance varieties.
However, in Jo Houston’s eyes, Christmas time was far from the most wonderful time of the year, contrary to the Andy Williams on the radio in the airport bookshop. She loathed the season. Sure she could stand the commercialism and the out-of-tune local choir the majority of the time, but it was because of one event in the social calendar she hated winter: Christmas day with the family. Unlike the vast majority of families, where the Christmas get-together is a joyous event, Jo’s time with the family usually consisted of her dad completely shunning her career as ‘aiding the creation of a mindless generation with no sense of morality or discipline’ as well as classing her boyfriend as ‘an uneducated, immature delinquent’, her mother attempting (and usually failing) to keep the fragile piece with a still smouldering cremated turkey and a slice of partially cooked fruit cake and as ever, her brother being festooned with praise after his latest accomplishments in the pharmaceutical business: a ‘real’ career as her father quite often put it, because in his opinion getting rich off of people with depression is a better way of life than making people laugh and entertaining them. Yet somehow despite all this, Jo’s mother would somehow talk her into coming home for the holidays every year as if it were going to be better this year; that her dad had finally softened up to her different career path. He never did, yet, this could be the year it changed.
A crackly male voice over the tanoid brought her swiftly back to the present. ‘All passengers flying the Air Canada Flight CA143 10:18 service to Edmonton, Alberta please proceed to gate 28.’ Jo closed the latest issue of Official Nintendo Magazine she had decided to purchase (a six hour flight was a sizable portion of her time, so she was going to at least do something productive during it, such as investigate possible future collaboration ideas). She handed over a couple of coins to the cashier before trotting off down the terminal in her heels.
Upon arriving at the gate she discovered everyone on her flight already had shared the same genius idea she had had to join the queue, which had resulted in her being at more or less the end of the sizable line to board the soon to be departing Boeing 747. ‘Brilliant,’ she muttered under her breath, the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. Patience may be a virtue, but it certainly didn’t register in Jo’s repertoire of gestures at that precise moment in time.
When she did finally reach the head of the queue, she handed the attendant her passport and boarding pass, before making her way through the long, cool corridor to the aeroplane, her shoes making a soft ‘clomp’ as she descended to the plane. She rechecked her seat number: 45 A; right in the bowls of the plane, but hey, at least she had the window seat. Mounting the small step to board the titanic sized aircraft, she then made her way along the lengthy narrow passageway through the plane’s belly, skirting the many people in the corridor attempting to wedge their large amounts of Tax free last minute Christmas gifts into the overhead lockers alongside their equally unnecessarily-sized hand luggage, as well as children who had clearly had far too much sugar running up and down the aircraft, complete with embarrassed parents in full pursuit trying to drag them back to their seats and wrestle them in unsuccessfully. Relative to the sheer size of the 747, the actual number of passengers onboard must only have been around half of its full capacity, most of whom generally seemed to be sitting around the middle area of the plane, so it was sparsely populated towards the rear where Jo herself was seated; she had the whole 3 seats to herself when she sat down, and so placed her small handbag under the middle seat to give her more foot room.
‘Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking and I wish to welcome you aboard out flight today from Halifax to Edmonton, Alberta. Please be at tentative while we go through the safety announcements in the unlikely event of an incident…’
As the captain yapped on and the attendants performed their synchronised choreography of safety procedures while the plane taxied, Jo took the opportunity to send a farewell text to Martin while the plane was on the tarmac. After a little speculation on what exactly to write, she settled on ‘C U soon sweetie, off now. <3 U x x x,’ to send him before switching her phone to aeroplane mode. If only she could have spent the holidays with him. He was caring and sweet, and she would at least have enjoyed the festive period with him considerably more than with the family, but she had to go, and she thought it kinder to leave him to visit his sister and her kids than to take him and have him experience the judgemental gaze and sharp tongue of her father - an experience Martin most certainly would not be grateful for.
‘…flying conditions today are expected to be plain sailing however we may experience a little turbulence. We hope you have a pleasant flight.’
At that point a growl came deep from the bowls of the aircraft, causing the cabin shudder while the engines roared as they spun into life. The plane bounded along the tarmac at great speed, before leaping from the ground and soaring steeply upwards, the shadow beneath them growing smaller and smaller and faster and faster; her journey had officially begun.
Around an hour later, Jo was fully engaged in the magazine. The headphones that had originally hugged her neck earlier were now in full use on her head, with the likes of Coldplay’s paradise drowning out the relentless sobbing of the toddler in distress a few rows ahead. She decided to stretch her legs for a little bit, and so went for a small trek down to the middle row and back, passing the toddler, a few people sleeping and a woman tightly gripping the arm rests who obviously was not a fan of flying on her travels.
Just as she was about to reach her row a large bout of turbulence knocked her off her feet and brought her crashing down onto the floor with a large ‘thump’. Right on queue, the seatbelt signs flashed back on as the plane was hit again with yet another strong gust. Half-scampering, Jo made it back to her seat, fastening her seatbelt at light speed. Rain hammered against the window and pummelled the aircraft’s sides. The wings, as if to impersonate a hummingbird in flight, flapped up and down with tremendous speed and height, squeaking as they did so. One woman shrieked in terror and various babies wailed in despair as the cabin jolted violently in all directions, causing a variety of debris such as bits of food, a laptop and a couple of bags to leap up and down in the corridor.
‘Ladies and Gentleman, this is your captain speaking,’ came the voice from the announcement. ‘Due to the weather we are experiencing, we are being forced to make an emergency landing at nearby Winnipeg. Please remain calm.’
The plane, taking on a mind of its own, veered sharply downwards, ‘All passengers, adopt the brace procedure immediately,’ the pilot said somehow remaining calm despite his plane clearly resisting his attempts to tame his plane. As instructed, Jo threw her hands out in front of her and shoved her head between them, . The plane, bouncing and jolting, then veered sharply left, causing Jo to violently smack her head off of the cabin wall. Groggy, she tried to move her head but her vision clouded and the taste of blood in her mouth became apparent. Amongst the awful noises such as the squeaking of the metal and the lashing of the rain, she could just make out the brace orders over the sound system, growing fainter as the seconds dragged on, eventually silencing all together as the world faded to inky blackness.
However, in Jo Houston’s eyes, Christmas time was far from the most wonderful time of the year, contrary to the Andy Williams on the radio in the airport bookshop. She loathed the season. Sure she could stand the commercialism and the out-of-tune local choir the majority of the time, but it was because of one event in the social calendar she hated winter: Christmas day with the family. Unlike the vast majority of families, where the Christmas get-together is a joyous event, Jo’s time with the family usually consisted of her dad completely shunning her career as ‘aiding the creation of a mindless generation with no sense of morality or discipline’ as well as classing her boyfriend as ‘an uneducated, immature delinquent’, her mother attempting (and usually failing) to keep the fragile piece with a still smouldering cremated turkey and a slice of partially cooked fruit cake and as ever, her brother being festooned with praise after his latest accomplishments in the pharmaceutical business: a ‘real’ career as her father quite often put it, because in his opinion getting rich off of people with depression is a better way of life than making people laugh and entertaining them. Yet somehow despite all this, Jo’s mother would somehow talk her into coming home for the holidays every year as if it were going to be better this year; that her dad had finally softened up to her different career path. He never did, yet, this could be the year it changed.
A crackly male voice over the tanoid brought her swiftly back to the present. ‘All passengers flying the Air Canada Flight CA143 10:18 service to Edmonton, Alberta please proceed to gate 28.’ Jo closed the latest issue of Official Nintendo Magazine she had decided to purchase (a six hour flight was a sizable portion of her time, so she was going to at least do something productive during it, such as investigate possible future collaboration ideas). She handed over a couple of coins to the cashier before trotting off down the terminal in her heels.
Upon arriving at the gate she discovered everyone on her flight already had shared the same genius idea she had had to join the queue, which had resulted in her being at more or less the end of the sizable line to board the soon to be departing Boeing 747. ‘Brilliant,’ she muttered under her breath, the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. Patience may be a virtue, but it certainly didn’t register in Jo’s repertoire of gestures at that precise moment in time.
When she did finally reach the head of the queue, she handed the attendant her passport and boarding pass, before making her way through the long, cool corridor to the aeroplane, her shoes making a soft ‘clomp’ as she descended to the plane. She rechecked her seat number: 45 A; right in the bowls of the plane, but hey, at least she had the window seat. Mounting the small step to board the titanic sized aircraft, she then made her way along the lengthy narrow passageway through the plane’s belly, skirting the many people in the corridor attempting to wedge their large amounts of Tax free last minute Christmas gifts into the overhead lockers alongside their equally unnecessarily-sized hand luggage, as well as children who had clearly had far too much sugar running up and down the aircraft, complete with embarrassed parents in full pursuit trying to drag them back to their seats and wrestle them in unsuccessfully. Relative to the sheer size of the 747, the actual number of passengers onboard must only have been around half of its full capacity, most of whom generally seemed to be sitting around the middle area of the plane, so it was sparsely populated towards the rear where Jo herself was seated; she had the whole 3 seats to herself when she sat down, and so placed her small handbag under the middle seat to give her more foot room.
‘Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking and I wish to welcome you aboard out flight today from Halifax to Edmonton, Alberta. Please be at tentative while we go through the safety announcements in the unlikely event of an incident…’
As the captain yapped on and the attendants performed their synchronised choreography of safety procedures while the plane taxied, Jo took the opportunity to send a farewell text to Martin while the plane was on the tarmac. After a little speculation on what exactly to write, she settled on ‘C U soon sweetie, off now. <3 U x x x,’ to send him before switching her phone to aeroplane mode. If only she could have spent the holidays with him. He was caring and sweet, and she would at least have enjoyed the festive period with him considerably more than with the family, but she had to go, and she thought it kinder to leave him to visit his sister and her kids than to take him and have him experience the judgemental gaze and sharp tongue of her father - an experience Martin most certainly would not be grateful for.
‘…flying conditions today are expected to be plain sailing however we may experience a little turbulence. We hope you have a pleasant flight.’
At that point a growl came deep from the bowls of the aircraft, causing the cabin shudder while the engines roared as they spun into life. The plane bounded along the tarmac at great speed, before leaping from the ground and soaring steeply upwards, the shadow beneath them growing smaller and smaller and faster and faster; her journey had officially begun.
Around an hour later, Jo was fully engaged in the magazine. The headphones that had originally hugged her neck earlier were now in full use on her head, with the likes of Coldplay’s paradise drowning out the relentless sobbing of the toddler in distress a few rows ahead. She decided to stretch her legs for a little bit, and so went for a small trek down to the middle row and back, passing the toddler, a few people sleeping and a woman tightly gripping the arm rests who obviously was not a fan of flying on her travels.
Just as she was about to reach her row a large bout of turbulence knocked her off her feet and brought her crashing down onto the floor with a large ‘thump’. Right on queue, the seatbelt signs flashed back on as the plane was hit again with yet another strong gust. Half-scampering, Jo made it back to her seat, fastening her seatbelt at light speed. Rain hammered against the window and pummelled the aircraft’s sides. The wings, as if to impersonate a hummingbird in flight, flapped up and down with tremendous speed and height, squeaking as they did so. One woman shrieked in terror and various babies wailed in despair as the cabin jolted violently in all directions, causing a variety of debris such as bits of food, a laptop and a couple of bags to leap up and down in the corridor.
‘Ladies and Gentleman, this is your captain speaking,’ came the voice from the announcement. ‘Due to the weather we are experiencing, we are being forced to make an emergency landing at nearby Winnipeg. Please remain calm.’
The plane, taking on a mind of its own, veered sharply downwards, ‘All passengers, adopt the brace procedure immediately,’ the pilot said somehow remaining calm despite his plane clearly resisting his attempts to tame his plane. As instructed, Jo threw her hands out in front of her and shoved her head between them, . The plane, bouncing and jolting, then veered sharply left, causing Jo to violently smack her head off of the cabin wall. Groggy, she tried to move her head but her vision clouded and the taste of blood in her mouth became apparent. Amongst the awful noises such as the squeaking of the metal and the lashing of the rain, she could just make out the brace orders over the sound system, growing fainter as the seconds dragged on, eventually silencing all together as the world faded to inky blackness.
