The aircraft cabin is dark. It is the middle of the night and three hundred or so passengers are attempting to secure a good nights sleep, propped up in seats, with undersized pillows, thin blankets, eye shades, and ear plugs. One has the impression of rows of human cargo packaged and trussed up for delivery.
Those unable to sleep periodically get up and go for short walks up and down the narrow aisles. A circuit has been mutually agreed without consultation, we will walk up the left side aisle to the rear of the craft, through the rear galley, down the right side to the front economy class galley, and around again. For those wishing to shorten the circuit they can cut thought center galley.
This modern aircraft is using a low level background light that washes changing colours onto the ceiling constantly, slowly, evolving from green through blues, to whites, reds, yellows and greens again. One has the impression of an artificial aurora borealis. The woken walking emerge from the dark with ghoulish hues tinted upon their tired faces.
My seat is five rows back of the centre galley. I watch with bemused curiosity these passengers in circuit, biding their time on this long flight, 35,000 feet above the Pacific, staggering in the gentle turbulence, a silent procession of the bored.
A couple emerge from the cabin in front of mine. She is taller than he and has her hand on his shoulder trying to steady herself on the walk to the lavatory at the center galley. They emerge from the turquoise blue into the dull white light at the galley. At the lavatory door he motions for her to use the room first. No she motions, you first. This is a pantomime these two have followed before and you always know his gallantry will be appreciatively accepted.
The door closed and locked he stands watch, his turn next. The gentleman turns to explore the area immediately around him and he stops to consider a small two shelf alcove. The top shelf has a selection of salty snacks placed thoughtfully there for passengers needing to fill a nocturnal hunger. The bottom shelf has a couple carafes of water and plastic cups. He has a thinking look on his face. With a flourish of efficient usefulness he pours a cup of water, procures a toothbrush and toothpaste from his pocket, prepares the brush, dips it into the cup, turns to the lavatory door, cup in one hand brush in the other, and commences to brushing.
Staring at the door he thoughtfully brushes each tooth working his way around the front and back of the top teeth and then repeating on the bottom. He stares at the door for a moment realizing his hands are full, the water cup full, and he has nowhere to spit, the sink being in the lavatory occupied by his wife. No matter, he commences to take another run around his mouth, staring hopefully at the locked door, willing his wife to complete her lavatory business quickly.
At the end of circuit two toothpaste froth is starting to dribble from his mouth. The white is emphasized by the now almost black light purple from the ambient lighting. He is also starting the uncomfortable squeeze motion bladder dance punctuating the reason he and his wife came back to the lavatory in the first place.
He runs a third circuit and a fourth through his mouth. The froth coupled with an uncomfortable contortionistic dance now highlighted by an orange hue leaves one with the impression a deranged rabid being has found his way onto the aircraft. His stare at the door is one of desperation. He looks ready to explode.
A fifth circuit around his mouth, trying to scoop back the frothy paste now dribbling to his shirt, the pained expression of a man desperate. The door opens. In the narrow aisle way they will need to maneuver around each other. Being taller she didn't immediately notice him contorted there. The first thing she spied was the top shelf of salty snacks. Reaching past him she scoops up a bag of potato crisps, opens it, and thoughtfully offers the first to him.
His expression changed from one of pain, as his body momentarily recovered control of his bladder. Standing tall the gentleman simply stood with arms open, cup of water in the left hand, toothbrush, in the right, froth dribbling down his chin. She looked at his incredulous expression, shrugged, pushed by him, and chewed her first chip on her way back to her seat. He watched her stagger down the aisle for a moment. The light turning red, he recovers his composure, and dives into the lavatory.
