We have a mammoth task to complete. We have to pack everything up yet again. We should be experts as we have done it so often but it is no easy task. We leave everything we don’t need for the hotel staff.
We hand our luggage in at reception. After we have breakfast, a Chinese waiter returns the carrier bag full of stuff we have left in the room. We ask him to give it to the lady who has cleaned our room.
It is tipping down with rain which rules out our plans of a quick trip down to Circular Quay. The dining room is closing until the evening but the Head Waiter plies us with free coffees before he goes home for his break. He leaves his classical tapes playing on the music system for us to enjoy.
The airport minibus collects us at 1 pm. I expect to have a rough time going out of the country as they probably have my name listed on the computer as a big time criminal. {The abandoned golf cart with the blown up engine on Hamilton Island is still playing on my conscience.}
When we are dropped at the airport we have to pay two dollars for the only trolleys that are available. What we con’t understand is that we can only use these trolleys for about thirty feet and then have to carry our hand luggage ourselves. People are being charged extra per case that they are carrying. For once we are not penalised for the extra bags.
Flight SQ222 rattles along the runway, gathering speed and finally with a wrenching thrust we are over a petrel blue Botany Bay leaving Australia behind us and heading for Singapore.
The blue uniformed smiling steward informs us apologetically that the plane is full and it is not possible to transfer us to a window seat which we had requested prior to the flight. The tall man sitting next to me in a tee-shirt and jeans offers to change places with me, but I thank him and say I might take up his offer later in the flight. Maureen is claustrophobic and prefers an aisle seat. I settle down, feeling disgruntled at the prospect of spending the next seven hours stuck in the middle of three seats.
Franke, the window seat man strikes up a conversation. He is from Holland and is a computer programmer. He tells me about his travels throughout the outback. He has his pilot’s license and has spent most of his holiday flying with the Flying Doctor Service to stations all over central Australia and describes some of his adventures. He adds that he has been invited up to the cockpit of this huge plane and is very much looking forward to the experience. He is to go up after the crew have served the first meal on the seven hour flight.
The flight is quite bumpy and we seem to hit a lot of air pockets. There’s a huge screen on the centre aisle which keeps us informed as to exactly where we are over Australia. Maureen wants to get her head down to have a sleep as we had another late night/early morning in Sydney at the club. Franke is up on the flight deck so we both need to stay alert to allow Franke to get back in past us to his window seat.
The stewardesses bring around glasses of orange juice and water. They are all slim dark haired girls with clear bright brown eyes. They wear different styles of dresses but all the material is in the Singapore Airlines design, some a deep blue whilst others wear shades of jade green with orchids and twisting stems woven in gold and red. They sway along the aisles with the easy grace which seems to be common to these Far Eastern women, smiling as they pass.
Here’s Franke back,” says Maureen. We get up and let him into his window seat.
“Was that as good as you thought it was going to be,” I ask. He looks solemn as he nods to me and turns his head to stare out of the window.
I wonder what has gone wrong as he seems so serious. I also wonder what he can possibly find of interest out of the window because it is quite dark. But I return to watch a Meg Ryan film I had switched on my screen.
“We’re going down! Why are we going down? That screen says we still have nearly four hours to go to Singapore. Carol! They’ve switched the screens off,” cries Maureen.
I don’t know what’s happening. I turn to Franke and nudge him asking, “Franke do you know what’s going on?” He turns to look at me, shakes his head and continues his vigil staring into the darkness below.
“This is your Captain speaking,” comes a tinny voice from the overhead speakers. “We are dealing with a technical problem and are going to land shortly. I have no time to explain as I am busy dealing with the problem. Please fasten your seatbelts. Put your chairs in an upright position and listen to the cabin crew for instructions.
“I told you we were going down,” says Maureen as she clicks her seat into the upright position.
“What button did you press when you were up there in the cockpit, Franke?” I tease but he stares at me with fear and terror growing in his face as I hold his gaze.
The sedate cabin crew are now running up the aisles grabbing glasses empty or full from our hands without maintaining any eye contact. The gentle sway has become rigid movements, fleet of foot, racing from seat to seat and row upon row. Sleeping babies are lifted from cots to be strapped into their mothers’ laps and the air hostesses indicate the oxygen masks, instructing the mothers that they must attach their own mask first.
I wake the slumbering blonde German couple in front of me and make them push their seats upright.
“There’s some kind of emergency,” I explain. “We’re going to land shortly.”
They look at me as if I am some kind of crazy woman, then take in the silent drama going on all around us. Still rosy-faced from sleep they fasten their seatbelts and hold hands.
The plane lumbers on being buffeted and tossed, rattling as if the bolts are being unscrewed and slowly, slowly we descend into the darkness.
A large man on the other side of the aisle suddenly unfastens his seatbelt and stands up in the aisle. He opens the overhead locker pulls out his flight bag and as he turns a steward pounces. Gone are the gentle eyes and kindly smile.
The steward wrenches the bag from the passenger, pushes him roughly into his seat and replaces the flight bag in the overhead locker slamming it shut. He stands over the passenger speaking sternly to him and then, grim-faced, scans the rows of seated people as if daring anyone else to move.
“All crews to emergency exits.” We recognise the Captain’s voice as we watch the crew hasten to strap themselves in. Their faces are set, their backs stiff with tension as they stare unseeingly to a point above our heads.
“Can you see anything down there, Franke? He must be landing this plane somewhere. Is there a runway that will take a plane as big as this?” I nudge Franke again from his concentration.
“There are lights over there. I think it is Darwin. It’s the only place we can land. But we’re still too high. The ambulances and fire engines are waiting for us. Over there. Can you see? Oh! No! He’s taking us out to sea.”
Franke turns to me, naked terror in his eyes. He thrusts his trembling hands into mine. His body is shaking and shivering.
“Why is he taking us out to sea? We’ll never survive a sea landing. There are too many of us. We won’t stand a chance with what’s in the seas here.”
“We’re turning around. He must be going back to try to land at Darwin.”
“What’s happening?” asks Maureen as she nudges me from my left side.
“Franke thinks we’re going to land in Darwin,” I whisper into Maureen’s ear.
“They should bring this down away from the town. If we all die, so be it but don’t have another Lockerbie,” says Maureen.
The lights cut out in the plane and we continue in darkness save the eerie green of the emergency lighting. And then the silence multiplies as the engines cut out. I glance at Maureen and then at Franke too terrified to speak to either of them. I stare ahead thinking that I will never see my boys or John again.
Silence echoes all around. None of the babies are crying and all the children are silent. No one speaks. No prayers break the pulsating fear reverberating throughout the steel tomb. We float as if on a glider, smoothly downward awaiting gravity’s cruel thrust. As if in slow motion we simultaneously copy the cabin crew and bend forward, heads resting against the back of the chair in front, arms clasped unfeelingly above our heads in full crash position.
We land smoothly, gently and slow to a standstill.
One by one we raise our heads and stare into the darkness around us.
What’s outside Franke?” I ask.
“It’s fire engines. A fire alarm went off in the hold when I was on the flight deck. You see I couldn’t tell you. They have got the hold open and there are no flames, so I think maybe it was a false alarm. I would laugh if I could stop shaking. I was so frightened. I thought we would all die.”
I feel Maureen fumbling about on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m trying to get my shoes off but my feet are swollen. You have to take your shoes off to get down the emergency chute,” she explains.
“Oh leave them on. They are not going to bother about your shoes after all this drama. Let’s get out of here as quickly as we can, ” I reply.
But we can’t get out quickly. We are kept waiting whilst those ahead of us get off the plane. We realise we are only four rows away from the emergency exit but there are large, young fit men and woman in front of us and we would not have stood a chance of making it to the emergency exit.
We are told to take no luggage with us. Maureen takes her passport and papers out of her handbag and we store them in my small leather bag that I can carry around my neck.
When we eventually get out of the plane it looks as if the whole of Darwin have come to rubber neck. Police and security are lined up against the boundary fence as the firemen satisfy themselves that it has been a false alarm.
Some clown lights up within yards of the plane. “Put that cigarette out!” commands a voice out of the darkness.
“Walk away from the plane as quickly as you can.” We are directed to the airport building and make our way slowly following the passengers ahead of us. We are the last to climb the stars and ask one of the policemen if we can have a cigarette. We can smoke on the stairs and shakily stand outside in the balmy air. There is a very long queue to get into the airport building. Some of the passengers have taken luggage with them.
Everything has to go through x-ray so we have some time to wait. A young policemen lets us in through a back door to use the toilets but we have to join the queue again to go through security.
The airport lounge is barely large enough to handle the seven hundred and fifty who are on our flight. There are other regular flights coming through so seats are at a premium and a lot of people just sit on the floor.
We want a cigarette but a young female airport official is going around shouting at people if they light up. Our young policemen comes to the rescue and tells us we may smoke in the Ladies.
There’s a smoke alarm set into the ceiling in the Ladies so I go back to the desk and ask him if he is sure it is all right.
“It doesn’t work, but don’t tell anyone I told you,” he grins.
A steady flow of smokers go into the ladies. Eventually the men catch on and go into the Gents for a smoke.
Maureen and I have a great laugh as the smoke alarm goes off in the Gents’ toilet. That smoke alarm is obviously working.
The loudspeaker system is not working in the airport and every so often a uniformed short lady climbs up on top of the reception desk to shout as loudly as she can to give us information about our situation.
One of the young airport staff is quite rude and we have met this rudeness from young women in uniform repeatedly since we arrived in Australia.
Other travellers comment on their experiences as they have suffered from the same rudeness. One of the Australian lads on our flight comments, very loudly, “That’s why all the Aussie blokes are marrying girls from the Far East. We can’t stand Sheilas like her.”
The young girl who has been so rude to an elderly man and woman turns away and cries in a corner but we don’t have much sympathy for her.
I phone John and tell him what has happened. He says, “You’re certainly getting your money’s worth on that trip.” Not much sympathy there either.
It is a long night but eventually we are returned to our plane which we have been assured has been checked from end to end> It’s been refuelled as the pilot had dumped all the fuel over the Outback on his way in to land at Darwin.
We should have arrived in Singapore at 9.30 pm, Sunday. Singapore airport closes at night so they have had to get permission to open it for the arrival of our flight and to call staff in to meet our needs on arrival. Our luggage is being left at Darwin for collection tomorrow. There is some kind of fire extinguisher in the plane’s hold that has been used to deal with the false alarm. The fire extinguisher has to be replaced before the plane can carry anything in the hold. So we will arrive in Singapore with what we are standing up in.