I thought I was scared of flying too, until this time.
Travelling on my own for the first time, I actually dared to peep out of the open window shades.
To see swirls of light and dark clouds, pinpoints of light, mountains and the sea, and a magic horizon that seemed to veer out of reach just as the 'plane reached closer.
I felt so close to Him, the Owner of the Ways of Ascent, to whom ascend the angels and the Rooh.
I truly
felt fee amaanillaah (in Allaah's preserve). subhaanallaah.
***
In other news, it wasn't just my imagination: I now have it on good authority that people (airlines staff and travellers) are
definitely unfriendlier to mums with babies and
much more accommodating to single ladies travelling alone.
Each time I've travelled with kids in tow I've had to weather condescending clucks of the tongue, semi-exasperated sighs from strangers of all shapes and stripes. However, this time, ironically when I needed very little help/assistance from people, everyone was uber polite and eager to please. What's up with
that?Reminds me of this
really sweet article that I'd posted the last time I travelled, worth a re-post I think:
Beauty v/s Babies and BeardsBy: Rabbi Shmuley Boteach (courtesy: Beliefnet)Have you ever tried to infiltrate business class holding a baby? Had I arrived with something actually ticking that said “BOMB” in big, bold letters, I would have been accorded a more pleasant reception. Everyone looked at me as if I had boarded with an obvious contagious disease. The baby, coupled with the fact that the guy bringing “it” on board had a yarmulke and an unruly beard (i.e., obviously one of those religious fanatics who is far too fertile by half),
had most of the passengers ready to trade in their expensive business-class tickets to fly cargo. Next, the official persecution began. After great efforts on my part to get settled with my baby into my seat, while maintaining access to the thirty books that I needed to research my next book, the flight attendant walked over. “Is that your seat?” she asked, skepticism oozing out of every well-powdered pore. I confirmed that it was. “Are you sure?” she asked. I confirmed that I was. “I’m going to have to see your boarding pass.” I was indignant. “Let me get this straight,” I said to her. “There are thirty passengers in business, and you single me out and demand my boarding pass?” “If you don’t immediately present your boarding pass, I will have you removed from the airplane.” I picked up the baby, removed the library from my lap, reached into the overhead compartment, rummaged through my bag, found the boarding pass, presented it to the stewardess, and took a deep breath. She looked it over. There it was, in black and white, Seat 2F. “Wait here,” she said. She went to the front of the aircraft, returning a few minutes later. “Were you upgraded on this flight?” “No,” I said, “I was booked in business from the outset.” Foiled in her mission to rid business class of beards and babies, she retreated to the other well-coiffed stewardess, and spent the next ten hours whispering and pointing, even after the baby was transferred to my wife who was sitting with the common folks. Fast forward, two weeks. I am now traveling first class on a flight from Newark to Dallas, courtesy of a TV station. I have no baby, just a laptop. They announce that First Class passengers may board. I start ambling forward when, pushing through the crowd, I am scuttled aside by a very tall, leggy blonde. Her arrogant demeanor says one thing: model. Within a few minutes she is ensconced in her bulkhead seat, a pristine white poodle by her side, which she hugs and kisses and shares her drink with. First I have to witness the nauseating spectacle of all of the female flight attendants queuing up to pet the dog. “Oh, is this yours? She’s just gorgeous. Oh, Stacy, come and look at this beautiful little furry thing.” How my baby and I had earlier been treated immediately comes to mind. Later I notice that the flight attendants pretend not to see when Missy Long Legs holds the pooch during landing when “it” should have been put in its container. The hypothetical scoreboard high in the clouds reads, Beauty: One, Beard: Zero. Dog: One. Baby: Zero. I was frankly flummoxed by the degree of attention that was heaped upon this passenger, and how the other women treated her as their natural superior. In 1996, nearly 700,000 Americans underwent plastic surgery for aesthetic purposes. In the U.S. people spend more money on beauty than they do on education or social services—a good illustration of our priorities. There is something seriously wrong in the world when children are treated as a nuisance while dogs are treated as love objects. And there is something seriously amiss when appearance, rather than actions, can dictate likeability. There is something dangerously off track when men and women who love children, and aren't afraid to have large families, must feel apologetic and guilty for doing so. To paraphrase Martin Luther King, we await the day when our children will be judged by the content of their character rather than the comeliness of their skin. And we await the day when the fact of our children’s existence is not judged at all, but seen as the embodiment of infinite blessing .Labels: thinking aloud, what on earth is the world coming to?
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