Free Upside Down Inside Out by Monica McInerney Page A

Surely they didn’t think an adult could sit in this position for more than twenty hours? He’d come out atrophied, like one of the Pompeii earthquake victims, frozen solid in a bent position
    for the rest of his life. He moved around again, trying to stretch his legs. He could hardly feel his feet and his neck was aching. And they hadn’t even taken off yet. At least he had the window seat, through some minor miracle. And the two seats beside him were free. He might manage to contort his body in such a way that he could half lie down. A loud racket at the front of the plane broke into his thoughts. Over the headrests in front of him he watched as two twenty-something males weaved their way down the aisle. One was dressed in a Princess Diana commemorative sweater, the other in a dirty yellow T-shirt bearing the slogan ‘I went to London and all I could afford was this bloody T-shirt’. Joseph ducked as one of them threw something in his direction. The object bounced into the empty seats beside him. It was an oval-shaped red leather ball. One of the pair scooped it up in big, shovel-sized hands. ‘Sorry about that, mate,’ he said in a broad Australian accent. Joseph was about to say something in return but he was already being ignored. He watched as the young man held the ball aloft while his friend took a series of photos with a battered-looking camera. ‘This footy’s been right round Europe with us,’ one of the pair explained to a harassed flight attendant. ‘How lovely,’ she said in a distracted voice.
    ‘Please take your seats, gentlemen. We’re about to commence takeoff.’
    ‘Gentlemen? Us?’ The pair fell about laughing at the idea as they threw their duty-free bags with a clank into the overhead locker, then settled into the seats beside Joseph.
    The blond-haired one leaned across. ‘Gidday, mate. Better introduce ourselves, seeing as we’ll be sitting next to each other on this flight, eh? I’m Doug from Melbourne and this is my mate Shorts. Cos he’s so tall, geddit?’
     
    In the business-class section fifteen rows from Joseph’s seat, Eva stretched luxuriously. What next, a long bath in asses’ milk? A flight attendant feeding her peeled grapes? She felt like the Queen of Sheba. A supermodel and royal princess rolled into one.
    Not that she had much to compare it to - a few three-hour flights to Mediterranean holiday resorts with some school friends had been the extent of her long-haul travelling. But she’d heard plenty of horror stories from customers when she told them she was flying to Australia.
    ‘You’ll need a week to get over the flight,’ one had prophesied. ‘It’s endless,’ another had added. ‘Apparently all you do is eat plastic food and sleep with your head in your neighbour’s armpit.’ ‘It’ll be horrific,’ they’d said as one.
    Oh no it wasn’t, Eva thought, smiling serenely as the flight attendant offered her a choice of champagne or wine.
    ‘Champagne would be just perfect,’ she said graciously.
     
    Joseph now knew he was in Dante’s inferno. His hopes that the flight would be a time of quiet contemplation about his father, the Canadian offer and the seat designs had dissolved hours ago. It was just as well he’d finished writing his conference speech the night before, rather than write it on the plane, too. The two Australians beside him were now into their fifth round of a drinking competition. Their seat trays were overflowing with beer cans and miniature whisky bottles. Shorts was virtually unconscious, his mouth open, his loud snores punctuated by burps.
    The two were on their way home after twelve months backpacking around Europe, Shorts had explained to Joseph just before they’d begun their drinking spree. ‘These are our last hours of freedom, Joe, so we’re making the most of it. Doug’s off to medical school, I’m studying to be a vet. We turn back into grownups the moment we get off this plane.’
    He’d never really had those