Travelling Hopefully - Copulating Otters and the Shabby Bladdered Four

 The above sounds like a dubious jazz band. I have to admit that at least on international flights the airlines have stopped even trying to pretend that their safety briefings are going to keep you alive in case of a crash or even a mild cold. As such the safety video is little more than an opportunity to highlight various photogenic scenes selected apparently at random.  Nothing as plebeian as an aircraft makes its way into any of the scenes.  I was directed to my life jacket by a woman wandering through an aquarium while what looked like otters expressed their feelings for each other in the most vigorous of ways in the background. Should the plane crash I know to brace myself in the rose garden and if the cabin loses pressure an otter will apparently drop from the ceiling.

With the safety of its passengers thus assured the aircraft reversed out of its corral and headed in the general direction of Singapore. Seven hours of enforced immobility gave me the opportunity to look at my fellow passengers. Specifically the three older somewhat battered looking men who visited the toilet on a rotating schedule every ten to fifteen minutes. Three? Well I have pretty much recovered from the cancer but I still find it wise to stay within easy reach of a toilet. Particularly when I travel.

Possibly it was our monopolisation of the bathrooms which prompted virtually every other passenger to try and piss in a cupboard.  The cupboard was set some three feet above the floor of the cabin. This didn’t stop an endless stream of passengers from rattling desperately at the handle apparently under the impression that relieving themselves involved completing an obstacle course.

Apart from the urinarily misdirected the flight was uneventful and I landed in Singapore without once having to deploy the emergency otter under my seat. While I waited for my connecting flight I went and visited the airport’s butterfly garden. The number of butterflies in evidence at ten o’clock at night could be counted on the toes of one hand.