.....and dream of sheep , or polar bears

Two days ago , Friday January the 9th, my wife woke me from a dream. It wasn't that I was thrashing around or screaming or anything, it was just one of those co-incidental time to wake up and it synchronises with a dream sort of things. Fortunately she woke me just as a polar bear was about to bite my head off. I wasnt screaming ,thrashing about or running away because I was heroically(in my dream) covering my wife's body with my own , in the belief that after the bear had devoured me he would be so full that he would let Cheri just wander off to the safety of our log cabin in Greenland.
Why, you might ask ,were we in Greenland. Well it was all my Dad's fault. Dad ,Mum , Craig, Chris, Janet, Cheri and myself were flying from England to America ( I don't know why I was the only child travelling with a spouse, maybe the other spouses didnt feature so I didn't remember them) Anyway for some reason(Dad) we were late to the airport and a lot of the passengers were ticked off at having to wait for us to board, they were so ticked off in fact that after take-off a delegation of them approached the flight crew and demanded we be removed from the plane. Our removal could only occur if the plane landed, well there was one other option but that would be murder wouldn't it. So the pilot put down in Greenland and we were booted off, the whole family. Apparently there was a very nice hotel at the airport and everyone opted to stay there, everyone except Cheri and I that is. We went for the romantic log cabin in the forest with beautiful views choice. However there were no taxis available at that time sooooooo we hoofed it. Well the next thing you know I am about to be eaten by a polar bear whilst saving my wife's life and she takes away all my glory by waking me up and effectively saving my life. There was a movie once that posed the question, "If you die in your dream do you die in real life?" Anyway I have so far never died in my dreams but I have come quite close before.
So you might now be asking yourself "why is this good for nothing so and so blaming his Dad for all this". Well here is why, and this is only my version of events whilst looking back about 36yrs. I do hope my brothers and sister will read this and add comments and memories of their own in order to give a more complete picture.
The year is 1972 give or take a year and the place is Manchester Airport (Ringway?). Picture a family of 6 probably in their Sunday best, because that is how you dressed to fly in those days, Mum is running to the gate holding a suitcase in one hand and dragging my sister along in the other, Mum's hair , that probably spent the night in rollers so she could look beautiful on her first airoplane ride, is all over the place from running ,dragging kids,loading cars and frantically pulling at it 'cos we were so late. Janet, my sister, was probably crying from having her arm pulled out of the socket and having to carry one of those old fashioned(now) make up/toiletry bags that came as part of a matched set of luggage, I am sure that case was heavy ,as hair dryers and roller sets were MUCH heavier then than they are now.
Running in front of those two was Dad, dragging the biggest suitcase of the set and carrying Christopher the youngest and therefore the slowest brother(7yrs old ,8?) I can hear Dad now"c'mon, bloody 'urry up, just a bit further" I think he was wearing a 70's style Steve Austin(6 million dollar man) safari suit, but that could actually be two years later. A bit further seemed like miles to Craig and I bringing up the rear,(there were no moving sidewalks in those days,well not at Manchester airport anyway) we were carry/dragging 2 suitcases each with me of course responsible for the bigger ones and Craig taking what was left.The thought of missing the plane AND our first holiday abroad, not counting the Isle of Man lolol, kept us moving as quickly as possible but at the ages of 10 and 9 +/_ 1 year we didn't have much chance of keeping up with Mum and Dad. By God your arms can ache at that age when you are carrying a two week supply of everything except food that a family of 6 could possibly need in a foreign country.And don't forget we also had to manoever through the masses of people that are always at any airport at holiday time.
Back in the dark ages of air travel, (early 70's) there were no jetways for boarding a plane, you actually walked out onto the tarmac, after someone opened a"gate" to let you through, then you walked over to the plane and climbed up some stairs that were built onto the back of a big truck. Well, we were soooo late that the truck had been removed and the plane was actually heading out to the runway. Unbelievably (today) the plane was stopped and the stairtruck was brought back, just for us. Of course the plane wasn't in its usual boarding/parking area so we had to run out after the stairtruck halfway to the runway WITH our baggage still in hand. When we arrived at the plane I suppose our baggage was taken from us by the ground crew and we mounted the steps up and into the plane. If you think that our adventure was over you are sadly mistaken, I wonder if you can remember back to a time when blushing from embarrasment would make your face feel like it was burning. I can't speak for Craig,Chris and Janet, or Mum, but I for one was burning up, every one of the 200 or so passengers on that plane was looking at us and our seats were of course as far from where we boarded as possible so we had to pass every one of those people in order to take our seats. I can say Dad was probably not the least bit embarrased although he was more than likely angry at someone or something that made us late. In the thirty years plus that have passed since that first flight I have come to realise that my Dad has a pretty lax attitude about other peoples schedules, I have also come to realise that it is one of the main things I have inherited from him.
Years later (early eighties) Dad's comments on that event were something along the lines of"Damn right they held the plane for us, we paid for those seats didn't we!!!" Back in those early days of British International Travel the customer still was a customer with all the rights and privelidges that entailed, service was better, people dressed to fly as if they were going out for a play or a meal at a fancy restaurant. We even applauded the pilots after a plane landed and more-so if the landing was extra smooth. Now airtravel is like taking a bus, no-one dresses up, the customer can be forcibly removed for complaining too much about mistreatment by the "flight crew" and you are treated like cattle being herded from one place to another without much thought for your comfort or whether or not you would ever want to fly their "friendly skies" ever again.
Wow I really ranted on there didn't I, and it all started with my wife saving my life! I hope you enjoyed reading this and if you were one of the participants in our "mad dash" to the plane back then why dont you send a comment with your memory of what happened on that first day of Spanish Vacation.
By for now,
Garden Geezer