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I love looking at vintage pictures of flight attendants in the 50s, 60s and 70s. Okay... maybe not so much the 70s (it is clear that designers then were on an assortment of psychedelic drugs). But in those decades of aviation, flight attendant uniforms had a distinctive charm lacking in a lot of the ones used by airlines today - most of which make modern day cabin crews look like corporate minions working at a bank. I like how a lot of the vintage uniforms had a sense of playfulness that made flying look like fun... even though it really isn't. Good lord, I hate flying.
Zooey Deschanel as a flight attendant in Almost Famous.
This oedipal advertisement is hilarious and disturbing all at the same time. I love how they have the slogan, "think of her as your mother", juxtaposed with a mature lady striking a kittenish, come-hither pose. Yes, do fly American Airlines, and stand a chance to meet the mother you always wanted to shag. The best part? The text finishes off with, "That's the American Way."
This ad was for a Russian airline. Clearly, it was popular to hitch rides on airplanes in which flight attendants brandish what looks like a gun.
Yet another hilarious ad.
Everyone wants to fly an airline with pilots that tuck you into bed
instead of say... sitting in the cockpit and FLYING THE PLANE?
Air Pornstache.
Airline Passenger Certificates were issued by early
airline companies for crossing the ocean in a plane.
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Old Travel Log
I was skimming though entries in my old Livejournal earlier today and chanced upon my blogging of a trip to Canada I made while I was still living in Melbourne, Australia. More accurately, I was blogging about my flights to Vancouver - a journey that took me nearly 2 days in flight time and transits. First, I flew from Melbourne to Singapore, followed by a 6 hour transit (during which I popped back home to say hello to my dog and grandma before rushing back to the airport for my next flight). Then, I flew from Singapore to Hong Kong, and had another 3 hour transit. Finally, I flew from Hong Kong to Vancouver... and had to wait 10 hours for the rest of my family to join me at the airport. They were flying there from Colorado, USA, on a different flight, during which the airline managed to lose all their luggage.
Anyway, the Livejournal posts I made while in transit and mid-flight (this trip was taken during the period Singapore Airlines had wireless internet on board their planes) amused me quite a bit in a semi-nostalgic way, so I decided to re-post them.
December 16, 2005 • 7:56 pm
Am currently a hundred miles up in the air, en route to Singapore from Melbourne, and I just flew past Ayers Rock. Now I can claim to have actually seen it. Yes, that is correct. I am in an airplane, surfing the internet, updating Livejournal on my laptop, drinking chardonnay and checking out famous geological wonders in the middle of the Australian desert below me. Aside from the fact that I am a claustrophobic stuck in an airborne death capsule with no parachute and the Dharma Initiative on my mind, life sort of rules right now. Not going to lie.
Wireless satellite internet! When did our planes get so swish? No one is on AIM right now, which is mildly depressing, but I'm lining up movies on my KrisWorld TV set. Let's see... Les Temps Qui Changent, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Je Préfère Qu'on Reste Amis. Also, might I add that they finally installed rewind and fast forwarding buttons on the remote controls.
God bless Singapore Airlines.
December 17, 2005 • 12:21 am
Just landed in Singapore. Have discovered house still has internet. Have also discovered existance of black feather boa I have no recollection of owning. Why do I own a feather boa? Cannot remember ever having been drag queen. Seriously beginning to doubt either memory or past fashion sense.
My dog still loves me. I like that he hasn't seen me in a year and still remembers me, but fails to remember anything he learned in puppy obedience school. The weather here is death. I feel like I'm in the crater of a Hawaiian volcano, drowning in molten lava. Have already taken 2 showers in the 2.5 hours I've been here. Beginning to suspect that my lack of vertical growth in childhood was due to having spent life here melting away critical body mass that could have possibly contributed to greater height.
Earlier, I was screened by airport security officials who were picking on anyone who looked under the age of 50 as we are all obviously a generation of drug traffickers and/or terrorists, whereas grey hairs and gravity-bound breasts denote an inability to commit crimes. Conveniently, I forgot to traffic any heroin or nuclear warheads, so I was let off the hook after two male officers molested my luggage and rummaged through my tampons. No, not embarrassing at all.
I mean, really. While I do understand how certain feminine hygiene products might be mistaken for Taliban missiles when baggage goes through the X-Ray scan... no wait, I don't.
Now that I've cuddled my dog and said hello to Grandma, a nap on my own bed sounds delightful but I must dash back to the airport in couple of hours to catch my plane to Hong Kong, then yet another plane to Vancouver. Will not be surprised if I end up spending more of my holiday on planes than in actual countries.
December 17, 2005 • 2:23 pm
Suspect entire planet, except city of Melbourne, has been hooked up with free wireless internet access for all and sundry. Either that or have been living under large rock for past year.
Am currently in Hong Kong at the airport (which has wireless internet EVERYWHERE. Come on, Melbourne. Pick up the slack.), waiting in transit for my plane to Canada. Have just visited the duty free Chanel and Gucci, only to buy large box of gourmet chocolate kisses from the chocolatier, as have decided that expensive though they be, I will still have more money for shopping in Vancouver than if I had bought any product from aforementioned shops. Plus, am jet-lagged and tired, and need the sweet love and comfort only quality confectionary can give.
My Idiot's Guide to 48-Hour Non-Stop Travelling:
1. Have sunglasses the size of mother Russia for the sole purpose of covering eyebags, bloodshot eyes, tired skin, badly applied make-up during turbulance on airplane, and as much of one's sleepy face as humanly possible. Would suggest balaclava instead, but being mistaken for a hijacker might potentially ruin travel plans and result in three-star prison tours.
2. Pretend to be someone important - preferably a movie star, jet-setting socialite, owner of oil field (or daughter, if look young), minor aristocrat or President of small country. Declaration of aforementioned false occupation not necessary, as one's main goal is to simply look important. Smile benevolently at all airport personnel and aircraft crew, and speak as if raised by the BBC. Service instantly better, customs officials deem it unnecessary to search for hidden biological weapons in purse, and get upgraded to higher class of airplane seats when minor complaint about current seat is politely lodged (while it is important to dress comfortably for one's flight, it is more important to note that one never gets upgraded when dressed like a homeless person. Remember, Business Class and First Class is comfortable no matter what you are wearing.).
3. Have laptop. Wireless internet will travel.
4. Always, always, ALWAYS secure emergency exit seats. In the event of an emergency, not only will you be the first to exit... in the event of no emergencies, you will also have more leg room than the average passenger seated behind you, contracting Economy Class Syndrome and dying of blood clots. These exit seats are extremely hard to secure, as they are desirable to everyone except the oil sheiks already travelling in First Class. But these days, most airlines have a website where you can check-in early, up to 48 hours beforehand. Do not leave it up to fate. Lie in wait on the internet 49 hours beforehand, and pray that your high-speed DSL connection is faster than the shmucks lurking behind their computer monitors, conspiring to steal your emergency seats from under your very nose.
Am currently perched opposite the strangest airport smoking lounge I've ever encountered. Smokers sit on barstools along swanky marble-top bar counters equipped with what appears to be in-built silver champagne buckets in front of each person. This makes little sense as there are no drinks being sold or served but upon closer examination, the champagne buckets are actually ash trays. Businessmen in suits also lounge in office chairs around a large conference table in another corner of the room, which is made entirely of glass walls. The conference table is laden with silver dishes (also secretly ashtrays), and from a distance, one could be forgiven for thinking the men were dining on cheese platters while discussing their stock market portfolios.
Amazing.
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It seems that by the time I actually reached Vancouver, nearly 48 hours after I'd departed Melbourne, I was too tired to make a final blog post about the final leg of my journey. But I did make another entry while up in Whistler...
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December 23, 2005 • 6:49 pm
Here is a bad Christmas joke:
Darth Vader: Luke, I know what you are getting for Christmas this year.
Luke Skywalker: How do you know, Darth Vader?
Darth Vader: I have felt your presents in the force.
Dad gave me my Christmas present today. Am now the proud owner of a sleek, feather-light, matte black snowboarding helmet, a pair of raspberry-coloured waterproof Helly Hansen ski pants, and a white Helly Hansen ski jacket with raspberry zips and lining, plush satin inner quilting in ruby red, and an inner-jacket compartment for an iPod. Am ecstatic as my current Sierra Tek ski suit, as much as j'adore it, is five years old and its waterproofing is shot to hell. Have been drenched like a sewer rat every time it rained or snowed on the slopes this trip. Waterproof, my arse.
Am currently up in Whistler in our ski lodge, surrounded by snow. It is very Christmasy and all I want to do is drink hot chocolate by the fireplace while listening to Louis Armstrong and Nat King Cole sing carols. Weather is shit. It's been raining cats, dogs and Canadian elks all week long. Needless to say, this is awful for skiing/snowboarding as the snow on slopes turns to slush. What I'd give for some fresh powder...
Have not skiied at all so far, as I've been meaning to pick up snowboarding for years, but have only managed to ride for two lousy, stinking days thanks to l'abominable weather. I've never snowboarded before, so my brother and I hired an instructor named Pete Goodman (whom we renamed Pete Good Times). Am still rubbish at snowboarding but I like it almost as much as skiing now. Picked it up semi-quickly coz I've wakeboarded for years and the concept is similar. Like wakeboarding, my starting foot is goofy, not regular. Can now do fakies, reverts and ollies but that's about it hahah. Oh, self. How much do you suck? It will probably be another 900 years before I get anywhere near a half-pipe.
Am also suffering from INTENSE ski envy. Everytime we hit a treacherous slope, I spend half my time doing faceplants (which I wish was some nifty snowboarding stunt, so I'd be able to claim I am fantastic at it. Because I am.). And while I was faceplanting, biting the dust, wiping out, eating snow (insert other words that sound like snowboarding tricks but that actually mean I fell down alot) and so forth, skiiers would zoom past easy-peasy and I'd wish I had a trusty pair of old Salomon X-Scream skis strapped to my back so I could ditch the snowboard and whizz down slopes that would have been a breeze for me on skis, but might as well have been a vertical incline with a snowboard on my feet. My arse hurts from falling on it every five minutes.
Soon, we'll be off to Hong Kong for Christmas.
