THERE are only three stages during a jet flight where the risk of a crash is high - the take-off itself and the minutes immediately following take-off, the landing itself and the minutes immediately preceding the landing, and, of course, the bit in between.
This is mentioned not only to ease the minds of impending travellers, but to make them more resigned and accepting of their plight - and impending doom - when the big one finally comes. Note the when, not if.
For the big O comes closer with every incident-free day across Australia's skies. It's simple odds. Even with our wonderful safety procedures, we've been lucky longer than we deserve to be. The ratio of planes to available runways, mountain ranges and aircraft technicians in Australia has been plummeting alarmingly in recent years. Was plummeting the wrong choice of word there?
So sooner than later, one of those suckers is going to fall out of the sky, hit a hill or another one of those suckers coming in the opposite direction. And I, personally, believe it is the height of arrogance on my part not to assume that it it's going to be the very next flight I'm on.
For that reason, I have developed a series of procedures to make my final journey as stress-free as possible, even though I know it's not going to be pretty.
The key to all this is: stay focused!
As soon as the flight attendant pretends to check your boarding pass and you start to move up the aisle, focus immediately for the tell-tale comforting signs.
A full cabin is good, because there's something very reassuring about knowing that if you're going to be looking like an oversized Hungry Jack flame-grilled beef patty a few minutes hence, that a lot of other people are going to looking like an oversized Hungry Jack flame-grilled beef patty too.
The next thing is to focus on a fellow passenger who's really, really young. It's very comforting to know that at the very least you got to be a hell of a lot older than at least one of your fellow statistics.
"How old are you, little boy?"
"I'm six."
"Ha! Six. You call that a life! Ha!"
Keep laughing hysterically at that boy's short and meaningless life as the cabin crew escort you to your seat and restrain you for take-off. You'll be feeling better already.
Now, the plane is on the runway and take-off is imminent. I'm not going to try to kid you that of the three stages of air travel that are really, really risky, the take-off is the riskiest of all.
But you were probably already aware of that if you'd managed over your incessant sledging of the teenager across the aisle to hear the captain just before the saftey demonstration say he'd "come back with more information about the weather at our destination if we become airborne'.
Take-off is exceptionally risky because if any one of those big, round, noisy silver things under the wings (let's not get too technical here) blows a gasket, sucks in a sparrow or falls off because the two remaining stress-fractured rivets have finally given way when the plane is really giving its best shot at leaving the ground, the result is bound to be earth-shattering. Sudden loss of engine power means that long, aluminum cylinder you were stupid enough to cram into with all those other just-departeds soon to be late-departeds has suddenly turned itself into a dart, with the earth as the target board. Except that most darts aren't filled with thousands of litres of kerosene. Ouch! Bullseye!
And that's why it's also very important to check which direction the plane is facing on take-off.
South is best in Brisbane and north is best in Sydney. Kick up a big fuss and force the cabin crew to remove you if the aircraft is not pointing in the right direction. North in Brisbane and south in Sydney takes the planes straight out over water which is no good at all. Crashing into Moreton or Botany Bay and taking out the few remaining marine species there can really throw a spanner crab into your plans of being just another blackened face in one big unhappily fried family.
There is nothing more comforting if your fully-fuelled up 767 suddenly falls out of the sky just after take-off than knowing that (a) it's chokablock with people, (b) some are much, much younger than you, and (c) the resultant ground fireball with any luck will take out hundreds of hapless people on the ground who were both too poor to be flying with you, and too poor to be living anywhere else but in those densely populated older suburbs like Sydenham directly under the airport's busiest flight paths.
To be continued!
- Don Gordon-Brown