May 27, 2014 01:26
by Maggie Kelly

Writing has long been about revealing the truth of the world. Dostoevsky enlightened us to suffering and despair; Shakespeare spoke of love and power; and here I am, ready to blow the lid off a universally accepted misconception. Ladies and gentlemen, the Truth: Regular flight travel is NOT glamorous.

A perk of my job as a writer in the fashion industry is flying between Sydney and Melbourne once a week, every week. I get to live in the city I love (Sydney) and spend time in the city that I loved, lost and still get a bit horny for sometimes (Melbourne.) Anyway, in case you’re wondering, each week that’s 2.3 hours of flying, 3186 frequent flyer points, 2 nights in a serviced apartment, 4 meals in the airport lounge and close to 3 hours in a taxi marching back and forth the east coast airports, negotiating my chronic motion sickness with small talk with the driver. I can pack a suitcase with the precision of a heart surgeon and sweet talk a can of olive oil spray through airport security like it’s no one’s business.

But now, for the flip side: Can I get a holla for all the ladies who, as frequent flyers, have had to get ready for a date in an airplane bathroom? Or eaten cold tuna cakes and undressed salad for dinner? Maybe you use the terminal’s hand dryers as a hairdryer. Maybe you steal bread rolls from the airport lounge’s buffet. Maybe you steal wine from their bar. Maybe you work for Virgin and are already cancelling my membership in which case I beg you not to and promise not to squirrel away your baked goods or liquor ever again.

So next time you feel the urge to complain about your twenty-minute train commute from your cosy bed to your cosy office, think twice about writing a bitchy tweet on the delay, or updating your Facebook with a picture of that dude opposite you in toe shoes. Because you know what? I don’t even have Facebook in the sky. I do, however, get a free muffin. And maybe that’s enough for me.