The plane to Luton a few weeks ago. My seat is in the first row, right next to the cockpit. The flight attendants insistently urge our compatriots to put on their masks and stop stomping on socks around the plane. where you It feels like a wedding, except the groomsmen aren’t blowing their bells and the bride hasn’t yet gotten into a fight with her mother-in-law over the gold-toothed accordionist.
At some point, a young mother arrives with a two-year-old baby in her arms. He shouts to the flight attendant “Whoah, the baby ate the mask”. “Please?!” – the stewardess scowled. “You’re yelling at me over the microphone to put the mask on. How do I put it on when the baby ate it?” At this point I do notice that the baby is chewing and spitting out some pale blue cloth, apparently the mask in question. “Wait a minute, I’ll give you a mask,” says the stewardess and starts opening some metal boxes. Next to her, the other flight attendant sat on the chair and buckled up. At that moment, the mother slaps the baby on the lap of the flight attendant, takes out her phone and starts shouting “Michael, smile, Michael!” The seated flight attendant swallows her grammar from her suddenly agitated baby, and tries to return it to the mother. The mother, however, does not like these at all. “Smile be! Smile! Mike! Mike! Smile now!”
Michael chews the mask and doesn’t give five cents to be photographed, and a drool runs from his mouth. The first flight attendant has already found a mask and hands it to Michael’s mother, who calls out “Maliee, how do you like that beautiful baby. Come on, Michael, say bye-bye and kiss the pooches”. Michael obediently gives a hand kiss, then reaches for his mother’s new mask, puts it in his mouth and starts drooling over it.
Irini Zikidis
