So I had my last breakfast overlooking the sea of Tobago. My little bird friend returned. I saw him drinking out of the orange juice of the old lady on the next table while she was up getting some toast. I didn't say anything to her about it. The bird would never treat my orange juice like that. It had too much respect for me.
My flight was at 7.30pm which meant I had an almost full day left, but when you know you're going home it's impossible not to be in packing and preparing mode. A week here isn't enough in some ways but whilst it's been fun I was still looking forward to getting home and getting on with things. Perhaps another week would make me relax too much. One week has been just the tonic I needed and I will have a proper holiday in October.
The day passed quick enough and soon I was at the airport getting ready to board. Everything was looking good and the news was that we were a bit early and so once we'd refuelled we'd be on our way and back home in good time. However, despite these promises from the captain for quite some time nothing happened. Everything had been prepared for take-off and the drinks had all been put away but we weren't moving. Maybe an hour went by and then there was an announcement that there was someone on board who had a medical condition that the airline hadn't known about and they were going to have to leave the plane and we would have to wait while their baggage was located and taken off. We were still promised that we could make up the time and our arrival would be about what we had anticpated. Finally we got going and I started knocking back the Bloody Marys, hoping to ease myself into an unconsciousness that would last til breakfast, but just as my dinner table was being set up an announcement came from the cockpit. I was a little inebriated and distracted and actually missed the first bit, but it became apparent that there was some problem with the plane and we were going to have to turn back and land in Barbados. The captain assured us that we shouldn't worry and that he was merely being cautious, but you know, he would say that wouldn't he? I had the additional confusion of not actually knowing what the problem that precipitated this was. I thought of asking a stewardess, but they all seemed so busy and I didn't want to look stupid. But it had to be something quite full on to justify us turning back. The stewardess near me seemed quite jolly and offhand as she chatted with some other passengers, but looking into her eyes I thought I saw nervousness and fear. The more we were assured that it was only a precaution, the worse our predicament seemed. And not knowing was maybe worse for me as my imagination was running riot. There was was a strange silent calmness to the cabin, but not in a good way. Everyone was clearly anticipating the worst. I think had I known the real problem - that there was smoke coming from somewhere inside the rear of the plane, so thick that the flight attendants thought they might need breathing equipment to get into the area - I might have been even more freaked out, especially as we were shuddering as we flew through thick orange coloured clouds which I could easily have interpreted as the result of some external blaze. As we came into land we were casually reminded of the location of the emergency exits. If we were going to crash they wouldn't tell us to stop us panicking.
I say freaked out, but there was a casual accpetance of the situation. I found myself quite dispassionate, mainly worrying that I might miss my gig in Brentford tomorrow because word was that due to work rotas we'd probably have to spend the night in Barbados. It's hard to believe that I was praying that that wouldn't happen and that we'd get on our way.
Further back down the plane a woman was having a panic attack and though I was quite the opposite I could understand her worry. There was an unearthliness about the experience and a real feeling that something bad was going to happen and that we were powerless to do anything to save ourselves. For me that abnegation of responsibility meant I wasn't panicked. Whilst we were still in on piece (though still being buffetted around a little) I could console myself with the fact I wasn't dead yet, but did find myself attempting to imagine what it might be like to be in a plane crash. Would you be aware of events? Would you feel the pain of collision and explosion? Would you be aware of your bones snapping and your skin burning? Would you see the plane crumpling in front of you? Or would it just be bang and you're gone?I realised that I couldn't conceive it and just hoped that we'd make it through. If not, not only would I be lost, but the last five days of Warming Up would be destroyed with me. I could cope with the loss of my life, but the loss of my art would be unthinkable.
As it happened we landed safely in he pouring Barbados rain. It was disorientating and strange. My watch was already on English time and I was still somewhat tipsy and tired. We waited to see if the problem could be resolved quickly and stayed in the plane for an hour or so. Finally the decision was made to take us to hotels and try again tomorrow. Despite my anti-stress wrist-band I was a bit cross about this. I would need to let the Brentford gig people know that I was stuck in Barbados (my third West Indies island in a week - it's like a tour of the entire region. Jamaica? No, but maybe tomorrow if something else goes wrong). It didn't strike me that I was getting an extra free day of holiday at someone else's expense, but then all day I had been in going home and returning to the real world mode and now I was having to recalibrate my brain. I also seemed to have forgotten that a couple of hours previously I had been maybe a quarter convinced that I was about to die in a ball of flame and twisted metal, so maybe spending a day in Barbados wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to me.
I suppose even when I am unlucky I am quite lucky. I could fall into a barrel of thumbs and come out with Sarah Silverman sucking my cock.
