I arrived in Rome on time (thank you BA codeshare QF). This was slightly surprising as the flight map on the overhead TV screens, the only thing to watch during the journey, had the plane bound for Barcelona. No one appeared the least bit concerned that it continually plotted the path from the plane’s current position though to the east coast of Spain. Like my GPS, Mel (named after her forebear Melways), the line to the destination kept adjusting as the plane continually took a different route. Mel would have been asking me to ‘take the next left turn’ or ‘turn around when convenient’ so I mused as to the messages that might have been issuing forth in the cockpit. It also troubled me that if he had issues programming the video (and don’t we all) how did the captain fare with the auto- pilot? I was sure that there had been an announcement that we would be flying over Paris and the Alps, but perhaps that was the Pyrenees out the window.
Reassured by the sound of Italian voices in the cabin, but prepared for a few days in Sitges if necessary, I pondered how they would communicate my no-show to the driver waiting for me at Rome’s airport. There was a slight sigh of relief when the TV screens went dark about half way through the trip and an apology was issued. I didn’t have the heart to ask if the hostie could check the auto-pilot for us.
Sounds terrific! Oh what patience you must have had, all the while taking a peak out of the window to check that the pilot was on some sort of course. It’s freezing here, 11 degrees and rain. I’m jealous of the sun you are in! Ha ha.