Monday, 10 February 2003

Airshow Next weekend is the big airshow -- the Australian International Airshow or something like that. I'd like to go. I love aeroplanes and flight in general, which of course explains why I've never learned to fly. I went to the very first airshow in 1993 (I think it was 1993) but have managed to miss every one since. I enjoyed myself hugely, except for about 3 hours in the middle of the day when I was stricken with some of the worst hayfever I've ever had. I sat almost motionless with a handkerchief held over my streaming eyes for an hour or more, unable to see anything very much The traffic was so bad at the first one -- not that it worried me, for I travelled by motorcycle -- that many people including me stayed away the next time in 1995. I was all set to go in 1997 but Nat's cat suddenly required an $85 operation to stitch a torn ear. That was approximately the amount I had budgeted to attend. We were poor enough that I couldn't conscionably spend yet more money. I didn't mind at all (note for American readers and animal lovers, this is an example of irony). After that year, I gave up for a while. My son, Sam was too little and not a keen walker, and airshows demand a lot of walking. I didn't mind at all Finally, I tried to go in 2001 but the rest of the family decided to come too, and we left a lot later than I had planned. We never even got close to the airshow: the traffic was so bad it was going to take hours. We were covering a few hundred metres every few minutes and had 30km to go. This with a 4-month-old baby on board who was gearing up for a feed. We sighed, pulled off the freeway, accidentally got back onto it going the same way, screamed, eventually pulled off again and went home. I didn't mind at all. Anyway, it seems as though I'm quite free to go this year. I'll take Sam, now 8-/12 and a fair walker, with me. The only issue is whether Nat and my 2-year-old daughter Emma come too. Emma is a keen walker and she also shrieks with delight every time an airliner goes overhead. I think she'd enjoy it. Of course, if she instead was scared witless by the sound of an F16 on a high-speed pass, we'd be leaving the airshow about 5 minutes after arriving. Not that I'd mind. So, in an effort to find out how she'd cope, we drove 10 minutes to a parking area near the end of the north-south runway at Tullamarine airport, otherwise known as Melbourne International. When the wind blows from the south incoming aircraft fly directly over the parking area at about 100 feet altitude or so, seconds from landing. This is cool with the little turboprops, slightly alarming with 737s, slightly more alarming with 767s, etc., and downright awe-inspiring in the case of 747s. I love it (no irony). Anyway, we stayed there half an hour and Emma was pretty spun out, though she quickly worked out a system of needing to sit in the front seat as the aircraft appeared in the distance, then me having to pick her up and hold her as it flew directly overhead: "Put me there!", "Pick me up!", "I can cuddle you, yes?" I was feeling quite positive about taking her along to the airshow until this evening, 24 hours later. We were outside about 6:30pm and there was the distant sound of an airliner climbing, perhaps 5,000 feet high. Emma ran over to me and hugged me tight and announced that she was scared of the aeroplane. Oh great :-( We'll see what happens on the weekend. 9:35:42 PM    comment []