Coming in on a Wing and a Prayer (or two)
Some of you will be familiar with the title I have chosen for this instalment. For those of you who are not, it originated during World War II. It’s first documented use is in a 1942 John Wayne movie where a hotel clerk tells Wayne that a plane has been attacked and is coming in on “One wing and a prayer.” Its usage, therefore, was adopted for a plane so severely damaged that it was unlikely to make it home. Now read on……
As the time of our departure approached we checked the board and saw that “Go to Gate” was flashing alongside our flight number. We finished our drinks and made our “very merry” way down to the gate from whence our flight was due to depart.
In the last light of the day, it was just possible to still see all the aircraft lined up on the hardstand in front of the big picture windows.
I noticed one plane which had what appeared to be a very bad case of rust all along the leading edges of the wings and around the engine housings.
“Jesus Christ” I exclaimed rather too loudly. “Look at the state of that. I’m glad we aren’t flying in something in that state. It looks like it would fall apart on take-off.”
To which some passing uniformed BAA official, snatching and examining my boarding card helpfully replied. “I am sorry sir it appears you are.”
We double-checked the flight number over the gate and sure enough, the official had spoken the truth.
My mind was still trying to absorb images of plunging screaming through the air to a fiery death when my brother helpfully put his arm around my shoulder and spun me around.
As I have already mentioned we had both served our time in the Theatre as stagehands and in that time, had sat through our fair share of Am-Dram (Amateur Dramatic) performances. These could have lavishly designed and highly overambitious sets, highly ambitious dance routines, a fair few attractive girlies in the chorus line, but there was a reason why the cast were all still amateurs.
Anyway, I digress a little. At some point in our chequered career, we had both worked on an amateur show which was based around World War II patriotic songs and for one set we had the whole front of a Lancaster Bomber to get onto the stage. It was a bit of a bugger to move and took three of us on the fly floor to lower the piece in. Anyway, the song they sang was more memorable for the struggle with the set than for its lyrics but for some reason, at that point, they popped into Dingo’s head.
So right there in the middle of the departure hall, he burst into song.
Though there’s one motor gone
We can still carry on
Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.
By the time he got to that last line I was with him and we went into it with full four-part harmony (not bad for just two voices). And then…… silence.
You could have heard a pin drop.
Looking back, I now realise what a pair of louts we must have looked like to the good people gathering to board the flight, and to them, I make the sincerest of apologies. But in the offending stakes, we were just getting started.
Dingo now came out with a priceless exclamation of his own.
“If I was a religious person, I would definitely start praying”
To which a very placid voice replied from behind us.
“Well feel free to join us, my son.”
We both turned around and came face to face with a priest, complete with a dog collar, several similarly clad gentlemen and a dozen nuns all crowding into the gate area behind us.
We both made mumbled excuses about needing to use the bathroom and left them to their prayers.
“Well,” I ventured bravely as soon as the religious group was out of earshot, “maybe the strength of their prayers will lift us up.”
“They better be praying non-stop,” chipped in my brother.
The outward appearance of the aircraft was one thing, but there was little to boost our confidence once we got on board. We had both chosen seats at the back of the Aircraft in the smoking section of the plane. That is another thing whose passing should be mourned. I often wonder whether there has been any serious study into the growth of the number of air rage incidents and the introduction of non-smoking flights. That might make interesting reading.
Anyway, we made our way down to the last row and stowed our carryon luggage in the overhead rack.
Beyond the curtain in the rear galley, a very flustered stewardess was trying to repair the ceiling. Several of the tiles had fallen down so we had to help her secure them back in place with a large roll of gaffer tape. She thanked us for our help and we resumed our seats, and then just before take-off she came and leaned over our seats and whispered
“I wonder if you could come and give me hand again. One of the rear doors won’t shut properly.”
Now to be fair to the Airline concerned, and as they are no longer in business I feel little is to be gained by naming them, we were handsomely rewarded for our efforts in the form of extra free supplies from the in-flight bar and duty-free. I am certain, in hindsight, they were probably trying to buy our silence or shut us up by sending us into an alcohol-induced sleep, because frankly if you had seen the size of the gap around the door after we had closed it and the lights had gone green, you probably would have asked to have been put off the aircraft.
All that kept going through my mind for the entire five-hour flight was that scene in one of the disaster movies when the cabin depressurises and everyone and everything is sucked out of the aircraft in a maelstrom of flying paper napkins.
Suffice it to say that the plane made it safely to Ben Gurion and without the need to stop for fuel on the way. Do you think I’m joking? It was the same airline, same flight, the following year, and with my youngest brother on board on his way to visit us. The captain makes the following announcement.
“We are running out of fuel, so I’m just going to make a short stop in Cyprus to fill her up.”
Is it any wonder the company went out of business?
Next Instalment – Safely on the ground at Ben Gurion Airport
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