In warm conditions, maggots take a little less than 24 hours to emerge white, legless, revolting and ravenous from whichever den of iniquity hosted their conception in the first instance.
Anyone wishing to bear witness as their human counterparts are unleashed on society should present themselves to the arrivals area of London’s Heathrow Airport, or New York’s JFK, after Qantas starts flying there non-stop from Australia’s east coast in 2026. BYO gas mask and Google Translate. After 22 hours origami-ed into an economy seat, travelling with their noses jammed into a stranger’s armpit, the disembarking passengers will be reeking of turbulence and regret and communicating in a stream of sobbing wingdings.
Not to scale. Credit: iStock
Of all the crimes against humanity that airline travel is traditionally responsible for (lost luggage, novelty-sized toilets, whatever the main ingredient is in their scrambled eggs), this latest initiative, which is expected to deliver Qantas a $400 million earnings boost over the long (long, long, long, for the love of God, looooooong) haul doesn’t just telegraph a message of profit over people. It announces it like it’s the in-flight entertainment.
It takes the promised windfall, bubble-wraps it, pops it in a Louis Vuitton carry-on, stashes it in an overhead locker and then fires it into the sky with more hoopla than that generated by a dozen departing new Airbus A350s, whose rollout is the only thing that stands between passengers and the ultimate in trial-by-screaming-baby (and here I’m talking about anyone seated around me).
Of course, none of this should be interpreted as a defence of stopovers, which are (somewhat ironically) one of the few good arguments for bearing down hard and staying the course for 22 hours. Who among us hasn’t found themselves marooned in some far-flung grief hole at shoot-me-o’clock, wearing a newly acquired duty-free alpaca sweater and contemplating a water massage (because everything seems like a good idea when your system is still preoccupied with the after-effects of the scrambled “eggs” you ate on behalf of someone living in a time zone where it was actually breakfast on your last flight).
Truly. The last time Qantas was this out of touch with reality it was advertising tickets for flights it had already cancelled and issuing refunds payable on the Fourth of As If.
Please be seated – for the next 22 hours. The A350 will deliver the looooong haul.Credit: Getty
All of which brings us to a truth less palatable than tonight’s in-flight dining options: terrifyingly soft pappadums and curried could-be-anything. No one who has flung a wary side-eye at an economy seat neighbour taking down a large serve of each, then sat downwind of his halitosis-fuelled snores, only to discover him, awake again and indulging his anime fetish at 3am local time, wants any part of mentally revisiting the ordeal.
No, this idea could only have come from one end of the plane. The one currently enjoying piped muzak (a lilting instrumental titled The Company’s Paying) and calling for yet another piccolo of fleur de fully reclining seat. The same place, incidentally, where the threat of deep-vein thrombosis is staved off by a gently humming team of ever-smiling hosties, standing at the ready with a basket of warmed hand towels to massage those pesky blood clots into extinction.