I Survived Aeroflot

Everyone made fun of us when we told them that we were flying Aeropflot Airlines to Russia. “Email us IF you get there,” they said. So how bad can an international plane be, I thought. I should have been wondering, “How small?” Surely it would at least be equivalent to a US carrier ­ wouldn’t it? Nyet!

I wasn’t really paying attention to the plane parked outside the gate when we first sat down to await boarding. We had just spent over an hour rushing around Gatwick Airport trying to find Internet access, spend the last of our English pounds, buy chocolate as gifts for any Russian hosts we met, find the bathrooms, and, at the last minute find the way to the gates. We gasped at the line snaking out from the baggage x-ray line, checked our watches and assured ourselves that we had plenty of time, 20 minutes till take off. Our gate, naturally at the back of the airport required a typical English maneuver up escalators, an elevator, through a people mover and a tunnel.

Gate 35 to St. Petersburg “Closed”, the monitor above me showed and we ran, ready for a lid into home plate to beat the closing doors. But, despite the “Boarding” notice flashing above us, the place wasn’t fueled yet and passengers were still lounging, waiting for the official call. Finally I had a minute to look outside. I tried not to laugh. “It’s a toy plane, John. It can’t be the one we fly. I can count the windows on my fingers.”

Our toy plane had a small door, a single isle, and four seats across, two on each side. We moved to the back of the plane to find our seats ­ 12C and 12D, and sank into them hitting the springs. We pulled our elbows in as the stewardess pushed a TV cart down the isle.

John nudged me when the in-flight safety rules were being explained and pointed to the antiquated life jacket being demonstrated at the front. I hadn’t seen a heavy rubber life vest in years. The food trays, all metal had an antique look about them too, as did the walls and windows ­ everything looked like it was hand-painted gray. Even the toilet seat was painted, I could still see the brush strokes.

When I looked at the airline brochure and saw that our small TU134 Russian jet could cruise at 11000 meters (keeping pace with the big boys) I felt better. I settled back to enjoy the flight. It was a good flight ­ no turbulence, and everyone was kind, or passed out from drinking vodka. The stewardess even allowed us to move forward when the other passengers in our area lit up. And, we arrived on time. As we de-planed onto the tarmac the stewardess handed out “I survived Aeroflot” bumper stickers. (Kidding of course). We hopped onto tour buses then and were whisked across the runway to the gate. So all you doubting Thomases out there, consider this your official email that we survived an Aeroflot flight just fine.