The last place on earth you want to be as an Eagles supporter is in the Adelaide airport surrounded by Crows supporters while your team is down by 37 points at half-time.
It wasn’t meant to be like this. I was meant to be 37 thousand feet above all this, on the way to Sydney. And the Eagles were also meant to be up.
About an hour into our Perth-Sydney flight someone noticed a crack in the window of our 747. It’s not a big crack, only *halfway* through the 2 layers of glass separating us from the -30 degree temperatures outside. The plane dipped fairly sharply and descended to about 25 thousand feet.
The captain assures us that, with his 22 years flying experience, he would rather put safety ahead of schedule. In his 22 years of flying, it’s happened before, most notably on a much longer flight to Singapore. However, 22 years of flying experience leads him to think it would be a better idea to cut the flight short. Presumably, he’s aiming for 23 years of experience.
Sure enough, as we alighted, you could see a crack quite clearly through about a third of one of the external windows. Looks dodgy. Someone should probably take a look at that.
It was probably caused by the ear-splitting shrieking of that unsettled child three rows ahead of me during takeoff.
So, 4 hours in Adelaide. Or, more specifically, Adelaide Airport.
Half way.