Hats by John Ayres-Smith

I remember that flight – June 1^st 1975, Jane daydreamed...

“Taxi to right 90 Pan Am 365.”

“Right 90, taxiing now.”

“Hold at runway 07 – expected 2 minutes.”

We looked out into the darkness of the Sicilian sky as the engines idled briefly.

“Half throttle Frank.”

“Pan Am 365 – you are cleared for immediate take off.”

“You have it Frank – all yours.”

The four Rolls Royce Jupiter engines roared and the 737 shuddered from a standing start to a hundred MPH, then one fifty, two hundred and lift-off into the shimmering redness reflected off Etna in the distance. The crew still seated and belted watched the angle of the aircraft steepen as it climbed through the mist.

Sylvie’s attention was taken by a man three seats down on the right of the aisle. He’d obviously taken his seat belt off. He stood up awkwardly a lone figure amongst an orderly seated flight complement of 160 souls.

“Sir, return to your seat immediately please and fasten your seat belt.”

He took no damn notice so Sylvie unbuckled her seat belt and launched herself towards him. He had opened the locker and drew out a plastic bag.

“Jesus Sylvie – has he got ...”

This was Jane, the other rear crew girl thinking the unthinkable: did this man have a gun in that plastic bag?

Sylvie grabbed his arm and gestured that he should be seated. He complied, still clutching the bag. He stood up again reached into the bag and pulled out a bundle of paper hats and threw them out to the people now looking tense, with one elderly bespectacled lady looking ashen-faced.

“Come on guys – put ‘em on for Godsakes – doesn’t anybody know it’s Christmas and party time!”

Nervously two young men slipped on their paper hats, then a girl three seats up did the same.

Slowly, never taking her eyes off the man, Sylvie and then Jane put paper hats on as the plane levelled out and the seat belt sign went off.