But once you’re several hours into a mind (and bum) numbing flight, you almost wish for a little excitement in the hope that it will make the time pass quicker.
I’m thinking along the lines of another passenger getting drunk and making a fool of themselves, or a thunderstorm or lightning show outside the cabin as long as it’s a safe distance away. Nothing too hair-raising you understand, like the pilot who developed a sudden fear of heights mid-flight causing an emergency landing.
I don’t know if US Airways had picked up on this, but they tried their best on both the transatlantic and internal connecting flights to make the most of what little turbulence there was to insist all passengers and crew remained seated and buckled in.
What made me suspicious that the minor bumping was little more than that was that the captain would announce that each and every episode of turbulence was expected to last for exactly thirteen and a half minutes.
The truth was, of course, that they were being ultra-cautious as one of the cabin crew explained. A woman broke her neck and was paralysed after ignoring the the seat-belt warning in 2009 which no doubt cost Continental Airlines a pretty penny in compensation.
As it was, there were no great dramas and we landed in Philadelphia fifteen minutes late but made up the time on the Las Vegas leg, arriving in Sin City a few minutes early.
Our body clocks haven’t quite yet adjusted and we didn’t sleep particularly well on our first night, even though we’d been awake for over 24 hours. We eventually gave up and rose at 5:30am to join our friend and his neighbours for a stroll in the desert with their dogs.
But we ae getting there. The skies are blue, the temperature is rising and we’ve managed our first trip to Wal-Mart to buy a cheap mobile to use while we’re here.
And above is one of our local frequent fliers, one of the humming birds that call to drink sugar water from the feeder in the garden while the mocking birds sing in trees. Blissful.