Passengers: Judging from the accents, the vast majority were Americans, with a handful of what sounded like Germans. Many were couples and families finishing a summer holiday downunder. Diagonally behind me was a pair of loud talkers who droned on into the night, and directly behind them was an annoying foot tapper who continued despite glares from surrounding passengers.
Crew: Quick and efficient and mostly invisible apart from the meal and refreshment runs.
Food and drink: Dinner was chicken, rice and vegetables accompanied by a droopy green salad that was probably dead before it left the ground. We were then inexplicably woken up about five hours before landing for a cup of coffee before the lights were dimmed again.
The best bit: The toilet – it had more space than my actual seat. Instead of the usual cramped stall with only inches to edge about, this one was nearly as wide as the four-seat aisle with room to do the boogie-woogie had I wanted to.
The worst bit: The middle of the night coffee break and Mr Foot Stomper – closely followed by having to admit my own cowardice in being too afraid to ask him to stop.
Final verdict: You know you are not flying our national airline when military personnel are invited to board first (“we thank you for your service”). You also get creamer with your coffee rather than milk and the movie selection is full of stories of the US’ dominance in the arenas of space and war.
