Ticket prices are skyrocketing, the seats are getting smaller, leg space has reduced and the food is atrociously priced. Yet, I choose to travel by air every time I travel. After I dodge uncle-jis (who have nothing better to do than to gawp at any woman in their vicinity) and mod aunty-jis with their LV bags and loud lipstick, all I want to do is collapse in my seat (window, of course), pop my earphones and sleep. An impossible task, if you ask me, given that on my last plane journey I was accompanied by cacophonic children, had Kenny G’s uninspired music playing incessantly in the background, and there was some guy talking loudly to his co-pas­senger on the seat right behind mine.

To top it all, it was freezing cold inside the cabin. I politely waited until after take-off to press the call button, and after 5 minutes of my trying to rub some life into my slowly numbing arms, a vacant-looking airhostess decided to grace me with her presence. I smiled, my teeth chattering, and asked for a blanket. “Please wait,” I was told. Ten minutes went by, and I could see the airhostesses getting the food and beverages cart ready. I pressed the button again. There was a glass of water on her tray this time. “The blanket?” I reminded her. Another five minutes and my patience had run dry. I jabbed at the button and put on my most stern expression; almost at once an airhostess approached my seat and told me that there were no blan­kets available. And no, it couldn’t become any warmer in the cabin — “you should have carried something warm,” I was told.

Now, I’m not a fussy traveller, and I don’t see why the tempera­ture couldn’t have been increased, unless all my co-passengers were from the Arctic and were used to sub-zero temperatures. And forget the temperature, is it so difficult for an airline to make provisions for a couple of blankets on each flight?



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