One of the symptoms of my condition is an obsession with safety instructions. I hang on every word of them. I count the rows to my nearest exit, often before I sit down "bearing in mind that it may be behind me". I study the safety card which is handily located in the seat pocket in front of me. In fact I am quite confident that should an emergency ever arise, I will have those plane doors open and slides activated before anyone can say "So, old Isaac was right".
Admittedly, my confidence in my emergency response skills was a little shaken on a recent flight. Whilst casually perusing the safety card, Kleine Jongen noted that in the event of a crash landing, I might be challenged. "Huh, look at this Mum", he smirked. "It says here that you should only open the plane door if you have a clear view of your external surroundings after a crash." He paused for dramatic effect. "Apparently, you should NOT open the door if you can see water, smoke, or fire outside the aircraft, or if trees or other objects are impeding your exit," he warned.
At the time, I had been surreptitiously feeling under my seat to ensure the promised life jacket was in place, but his announcement stopped me in my tracks. "What do you think our chances are of good visibility immediately following a crash?" I squeaked.
He smiled and shrugged. Children can be so cruel.
On another occasion, I glanced over at Grote Jongen, who was sitting across the aisle from me on a plane preparing for take-off. The safety briefing was being delivered. As usual, and because apples don't fall far from trees (just ask Mr Newton ...) Grote Jongen was riveted to every word of the safety briefing.
Only joking; he was riveted to the very electronic devices that the cabin crew were suggesting should be turned off. I immediately pressed the call button. "Excuse me!" I yelled to the cabin attendant. "That boy hasn't switched off his mobile phone even though you clearly asked everyone to!!!"
At least I wanted to do that. For my own comfort and safety during the remainder of my life, I decided to instead shoot Grote Jongen one of my aeronautical maternal death stares. This is similar to a terrestrial maternal death stare, only more desperate, with impossibly high eyebrows, panicked hand gestures and silently mouthed cross-aisle threats.
Temporarily defeated, I slumped in my seat and waited for the clatter and jolt as we careered off the end of the runway, certain that our take-off was about to be rendered completely ineffective due to "interference with the aircraft's navigation system". Interference potentially caused by my defiant son.
When it became fairly clear that on this occasion we seemed to be taking off without incident, I switched to waiting - somewhat desperately - for the clatter and jolt of the drinks trolley instead.
While I waited, it occurred to me that De Jongens are cruising down the runway of life. They, and we, know that very soon they are going to be soaring on their own. Right now, they are magnificently and naively confident in their own flying abilities, in a way that I envy. As young adolescents, De Jongens pretty much believe they are just about ready to fly solo. To make this point they have a tendency to push buttons - generally mine - like pilots carrying out a pre-flight check. Between them, they manage to test the responsiveness and effectiveness of every control in the parental cockpit. Multiple times.It struck me (where IS that drinks trolley??) that an adolescent, impatiently preparing for take-off, could take many useful life lessons from an aircraft safety briefing, particularly one lovingly prepared by a nervous flyer with a vested interest in the safety of her passengers.
So I offer the following advice to my gorgeously, frustratingly, impressively invincible boys, as they gather speed on the runway of adolescence, ready to embark on the tricky flight to adulthood.
"Good morning and welcome on board flight 1214 to adulthood. Ned Nederlander and I are the head stewards on your flight. We are here to ensure your safety and to assist you to get the most out of life while making a constructive contribution to society. In that regard, please be aware that we are entitled, under the Parental Aviation Act, to use reasonable force to stop you engaging in behaviour that is deemed at any time by us to be "stupid". It will be a more pleasant and comfortable flight for all of us if you simply accept that. However, since we know that you won't accept it, please keep listening. That includes the boy in seat 11A still playing on his phone, and the boy in Seat 11B who is laughing at his quivering mother.
While we are happy (at times convenient to us) to dispense drinks, snacks and in-flight entertainment, you will increasingly be expected to adopt a self-service mentality. Therefore, we ask you both to be aware that misuse of the "Call" button on this flight will not be tolerated.
Your seat belt should be fastened low and tight. That is, your attachment to your family should not necessarily be on display for everyone to see (we understand that that gets embarrassing when you are at cruising altitude), but it is best to maintain a comfortable connection at all times. Even though you might doubt the need for it at the moment, the familial seatbelt is one of the most effective security devices, particularly in times of unexpected turbulence.
Please store all your adolescent baggage in the overhead lockers during take off and landing, to prevent others from tripping over it. By all means take it down during the flight and do whatever it is you need to do to deal with it. Of course, Ned and I will be happy to help you deal with it, but we suspect that we are probably the source of much of it, so you might not find our assistance particularly helpful. In any case, please take great care when opening the overhead lockers, as your baggage might have shifted during transit, and metamorphosed into something quite unrecognisable. There is a high probability that it could injure other people if it falls out unexpectedly. The cabin crew will be happy to dispose of any unwanted baggage at the end of the flight.
Electronic devices should be switched off whenever we ask you to, as they can interfere with personal navigation systems. Instead of texting and playing mindless games, may we suggest that you work on developing the art of a spontaneous face to face conversation; one that can't be edited or deleted at your convenience. Or stop and ponder something of a non-digital nature. Or do absolutely nothing for a while. Better still, do your homework.
Fit your own mask before helping others. If you do not look after yourself, you can not expect to be of much use to others. Be kind to yourself. Figure out what's great about you - see Ned or me if you'd like a starter list; we are your greatest fans and after observing you both for many years in the departure lounge, we have gathered very long lists of your attributes.
Should there be a need to change direction suddenly, or undertake an emergency landing, which is common on flights to adulthood, you will hear the command "Brace, brace". If this happens during the flight, plant your feet firmly on the floor, hold your head in your hands, stow that damned electronic device under the seat in front of you and await instructions from the cabin crew. We are trained in emergency responses and will usually be able to get things back on track relatively quickly.
Now please, settle back, relax and enjoy your flight. Ned and I will try to do the same, which should help all of us on board this flight.
Finally, thank you for all the times you make this steward's heart soar. Thanks for the times when you lift me above my own fears and you help me to fly at my best. It's a pleasure to have you on board."
Flight 1214 ready for take-off. Cabin crew, arm the doors and cross-check.
