Douglas Aberdeen

The Kangaroo Hop is a euphemism, and a pretty good one, for the brain mulching experience of flying long-haul between Australia and Europe. When the route first became feasible in the 1930's the number of hops required was measured in dozens and the travel time was measured in weeks. It was an experience reserved for the elite and they travelled in an opulence that even today remains unobtainable for the majority of travellers. The modern version has two hops, taking a day and a half. Hundreds of thousands of people fly the route every year. To many, the Kangaroo Hop represents a coming of age, a family reunion, returning home, or just the cost of doing business in Oz. Whatever your reason for flying, it's as much an emotional journey as a literal one. It brings out the best and the worst in us. So here are a few little observations to get you in the mood. Bon voyage!

The Unfortunate Bits

It takes about 7 hours of actual air time to fly from Sydney to Singapore, and another 13 from Singapore to London. It depends a lot on prevailing winds and more than a little on how many war-torn countries you fly over. For each hop, add an additional hour of aluminum-tin-can time for boarding, disembarking and getting lost on the taxiways. On my last trip, we had a 15 minute delay in Singapore because the airline had to remove the bags of a passenger that had over indulged on the previous leg. Then the pilot announced a further 20 minute delay due to missing our "slot over Afghanistan". There's no end to the list of delay excuses, from the mundane to the absurd. Yet another hour is spent in the airport, between check-in and boarding, and it can take an hour to deplane and exit customs. Airports calculate that their shops make about one US dollar per hour per waiting person. And unless you're quaffing the free stuff in a private lounge, there's not much else to do.

Let's add it up: 20 hours in the air, another 2 on the ground and 2 in the airport. Twenty-four hours one way. Forty-eight hours return. That's the absolute bare minimum. Longer layovers are common and there's often connecting flights at either end. My personal average is about 36 hours one-way. Another personal stat is that one in six flights have something go wrong. "Go wrong" means a delay of an hour or more, lost luggage, cancellations, diversions; there's quite a few variations. Short of a death in the family, or moving house, the Kangaroo Hop is one of the worst things that you can do to yourself and your family. It's an excellent thing to wish on your enemies.

For the duration of a long-haul flight on the average airline, in fourth class, your personal space is about 75 cm (30") long by 44 cm (17.5") wide. If that doesn't sound very big it's about to get smaller. To begin, the length that you possess for the next 14 hours is the distance from a fixed point on your seat to the same point on the seat in front of you, the so called seat "pitch". So you lose a good 10 cm to the seat itself. If you're anyone but a small child the only way to stretch out is to half slide your bum off the seat and contort your knees under the seat in front of you. Try to avoid waggling your smelly toes in the crotch of the person in front of you. It's disconcerting. There are various complicated metal parts in the way to prevent this, but it's possible. It should also be pointed out that the exercises that the airlines politely suggest you perform during the flight, to prevent deep vein thrombosis, are only feasible if you're likely to be forbidden from riding a roller-coaster. Further reducing your space is the tactically located storage pocket, full of drivel laden advertising magazines wanting to form an intimate relationship with your kneecaps.

Now for the width. In the fourth class of a 747 you're given 44 cm, and 5 cm of that is your armrest. I say armrest, singular, because only one armrest is counted toward your space allocation. In the centre of long-haul jets there are 4 seats, 5 armrests, and 10 elbows. Part of greeting your fellow travellers is the initial jostle for armrest space. There's also the V leg that men adopt, instantly projecting their knees and masculinity out into your coveted personal space as soon as they sit down. If you're a wider kind of person, you'll find it difficult to even clamber into a non-aisle seat.

The latest generation of personal in-flight entertainment systems are amazing. I remember when your only choice was a couple of vanilla Disney movies on a fuzzy shared screen with pneumatic headphones. Now you can bury yourself in movies, shows and music for most of the flight. But they come with their own unique frustrations. The screens are small and dark. They are too bright if you fall asleep and not bright enough to watch. Occasionally you'll get an entertainment system that's completely kaput, and no amount of cajoling from the flight crew can revive it. Always bring a good book!

Sleep. We bemoan sleep when it doesn't come, but when it does come we're not conscious to enjoy it. I'm one of the restless fidgety types that you don't want to be next to long-haul. In turn, I'm insanely jealous of those who can apparently sleep in any preposterous circumstance or position. It's beyond my comprehension how people can sleep on planes. You're not even horizontal! In fourth, no matter how you arrange your various appendages, something is always digging into a hard bit of plastic, or needs more support. On rare occasions I sleep briefly, usually after being awake for 30 hours, having a glass of wine, and while trying to watch a really bad romantic comedy. Actually, there's very little to compare to the joy of falling asleep when the Flight Tracker says you are over Myanmar and waking up to find yourself over Turkmenistan. It means you've just mentally erased two hours of tin-can time. That joy is only a little abated by discovering that you bruised yourself in a place you didn't think possible, and drooled all over your neighbour's shoulder. In the old days you occasionally had an empty seat next to you. Or if you were very lucky, a whole set of 4 seats in the centre. It doesn't happen often now that airlines have such tight margins. But if it does, consider it equivalent to a business class upgrade.

There are conspiracy theories suggesting airlines deliberately reduce oxygen levels to aid sleep. Aircraft cabins are designed to maintain a pressure equivalent to an altitude of about 2,400 m (7,100 ft) at cruising altitude. At higher altitudes people start feeling sick. Maintaining lower altitudes puts stress on the aircraft due to the pressure differential to the outside. Newer planes maintain lower equivalent cabin altitudes (1,520 m in the A380) and also maintain a sane humidity level. Oh, and by the way, on an A380, everyone can hear you snore.

Flight Etiquette

A combination of tolerance and good manners keeps us all sane when forced to coexist in each others armpits. Over the years I've noticed an unwritten etiquette for long-haul flights:

Keep your legs and feet to yourself. One of the finer points of long-haul etiquette is to ignore any accidental contact between feet under the seat. Don't let your knees spread further than the armrests. Don't dominate both armrests, but sharing an armrest is okay and sustained contact between arms may be tolerated, particularly while sleeping.

Don't recline your seat until after the first meal. When the seat in front of you does recline, recline yours as well. The whole system works best if everyone reclines at the same time because you can't breathe between a reclined and unreclined seat. Return to upright before the second meal and stay there until landing.

Toilet etiquette is crucial. Don't loiter *in* the toilet. Loitering around the toilet is ok, but make sure those around you know that you're not waiting. Use the "attendant call" button if there's no toilet paper. If you're in an aisle seat, you have the responsibility to get up often to give your non-aisle companions a chance to get up. If you're in a window seat, you have the responsibility to try and hold on until your companions get up first. I was once in a window seat with a disabled person next to me. I swear my bladder never recovered.

By all means talk quietly to your neighbour. It's polite to exchange pleasantries while waiting for take off. It's also expected that you discuss, with relief, the conclusion of the flight. But you can remain as quiet as the grave for everything in between. During the flight don't get up and talk to someone else standing in the aisles, particularly when the lights are dimmed. I don't want to hear about your marriage problems for 3 hours.

Close your shutters after the first meal. Don't open them if there's direct sunlight, even for a second, you'll flood the entire cabin with light. Open them again before landing. Irrespective of the time of day, airlines encourage sleep during the long middle section of the flight.

Yes, the alcohol is free! It's okay to ask for a glass or two of your preferred poison with your meal. You can even request another later in the flight. But in economy you will start to get disapproving looks from the aircrew if you ask for more than that. Beware: the combination of normal long-haul de-hydration, the reduced air pressure, and lack of sleep all combine to make for restlessness and really rotten hangovers. One of my worst flying experiences was in business. They kept topping up my glass unasked, with a very nice red. I over indulged and felt horrendous for the next 10 hours when I might have been sleeping. I've seen people barely able to stand after a flight, needing a luggage trolley to prop themselves up. I've also seen people refused boarding and left stranded in Singapore.
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To read the rest, visit Doug's Rants: The Kangaroo Hop.