The hazards of planes: iLIVE

I have recently begun to fly a lot more often. It’s a necessary part of my job and it means I have had excessive time to acquaint myself with most of South Africa’s airports.

I don’t think I’d go quite as far as calling myself a “frequent flyer” just yet (I can’t even get my Voyager status above blue), but I used to be one of those people who hopped on maybe two flights a year, and in comparison I have become a veritable astronaut.

Unfortunately membership to boring, passenger NASA means I have got time to sit around planes and observe things. A lot of time. And lately I have been pondering the danger of armrests. They need to be down, you see. Armrests down. Tray tables locked away. Seatbacks upright. You know the drill. They do all these things for your own good, apparently. Nonsense.

I was on a fairly empty early flight back from Durban to Johannesburg the other day, and the stewardess was doing the customary “wander down the aisle and stare at your crotch to see if your seatbelt is on”. As she passed, she noticed that my armrest wasn’t in it’s much safer “down” position.

“Sir, please put down your armrest,” she says. Her voice isn’t annoyed yet (it’s only the second flight of the day), but I can hear the tone.  She obviously does this often – having to deal with some simpleton who thinks he can just put his armrest anywhere.

It got me thinking, though. Why does it need to be down? I would understand why if we were taking off from an airport in Florida, into one of their latest hurricanes. It would be down because of my white knuckles gripping it in panic. But here, in our mild-mannered, non-tornadoed skies? As I was putting it down, I gauged its potential danger.

I gave it a little lift, with one finger. It was plastic. And hollow. And weighed less than a box of custard. As a gladiator, I’d have more chance of maiming you with a pool noodle.

And if it were upright while we take off? Could it fall down onto my shoulder, or my hand? Could it injure me? In the interest of science, I tried. I positioned it in ways that might allow gravity to wield an armrest like a weapon. It simply doesn’t work.

In fact, the best reason for armrests is as a useful reminder to the person next to you about where they need to start keeping their limbs to themselves. They could also function as a practical (ahem) yardstick to decide whether fatties should buy an extra seat or not. Useful to bigots, then, but hardly lethal.

What about ‘phones off, and you can shove your flight mode up your arse’?  It’s ridiculous. About 7 million people take off and land every day around the world. And lets (very conservatively) say that one in every hundred is a lunatic firebrand (or lazy. Or forgetful) who simply puts their phone in silent. Well that’s 70’000 people causing planes to fall out of the sky every day. It’s a marvel we haven’t all been killed by bits of Boeing landing on our heads.

I know they say that once we all use our phones and gadgets at the same time the plane will simply fall out of the sky, but I have my doubts. 

I have often, in the safety of my own home, used both my cellphone and my laptop connected to my Wi-Fi. At the same time. And you know what? The TV remote still works too. No interference at all. I’d be much more worried about a mechanic forgetting to screw one of the engines back on or leaving a hammer in one of the jet intakes. Or forgetting to fill it up with petrol.

Perhaps it’s simply because they don’t want everyone sexting in an enclosed environment like that. Because the steward still needs to wander the aisle to look at your crotch, see?

Personally, I think the whole thing is silly. Let me put my armrest up, put my seat back, & let me watch my movie on my tablet. It’ll make all of us a lot happier.