Altered States

It's the same old story - you wait months for a day to arrive and then suddenly it's tomorrow. Felt a little stressed (poor bastard - hasn't worked for two months and now he's sodding off for four more. Life's tough) but having bought enough pharmaceuticals to open my own branch of Boots and more electronics (Kindle, laptop, camera, iPod) than you could shake an opportunistic mugger at, it was finally time for the off.

Teary-bye at Gatwick with the better-off half (love you, see you soon) misguided optimism about a potential upgrade (sorry, sir, but you're not rich/famous/handsome/young/thin enough - please make your way to the 'essentials' wing and try not to stain anything on the way) and I arrive at my seat. 39F. A fire exit seat. Things may be looking up! So here's what I see that causes immediate ball shrinkage:

- Family of five with a new born baby, two and four-year-old sat right next to me.
- Family of four with a three and five-year-old sat right behind me.

OK, everything's gonna be fine. I'll just lose myself in the inflight entertainment and try to drink myself into an early sleep. Because I'm in an exit seat, I've got one of those TV screens that comes out of the arm and extends in front of you, so I promptly yank it out and try to manipulate it into the perfect viewing position. Once I have it I release my grip and the screen swings limply down into an unwatchable spot. I can't help but sense the sexual parallels and grin meekly at a disappointed looking lady sat next to me. 'This has never happened to me before', I venture, tapping the unit so that it waggles pathetically in front of us. She's unimpressed. Actually, so the fuck am I! My only solace from an inevitable night of shrieks, screams and projectile vomit is now impotently drooping ineffectually before me! I made a fuss. I needn't have bothered. 'Sorry, sir, there's nothing we can do. Can you hold it up?' The humiliation.

Seven and a half hours later I'm exhausted. The crying has been relentless and without anything to watch, I've had to stare bleary-eyed into the darkness forever. I feel like William Hurt in Altered States - that my delirium has somehow allowed me to gaze straight into the existential heart of the universe, where all the answers of life sit and wait for the soul to be tested to an extent that frees the mind and opens the corridors of enlightenment hitherto unattainable by a sane mind. My eyes are burning and I feel I've narrowly avoided cutting the trip very short due to some brutal infanticide, but I've made the first leg and I limp lethagically into Dubai Airport. And then it's all worth it.

Exotic, absurd, unusual, unfamiliar - I'm so enamoured by what I see that I'm immediately bitten by the bug again. The bigger picture suddenly comes crashing down on me reminding me of what's to come and I feel a ripple of excitement purr through me. Looking around it's all so different, they're all so different - and so, spirited away from my own natural state of indifference the journey begins.