During the World Cup, most flights in South Africa will be fully booked.
A warning to tourists who don’t speak fluent English. Don’t — I repeat don’t — book seats next to the emergency exits. Move away from these exits, for the sake of soccer.
I recently flew from Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth. An air hostess leaned across the row in front of me and asked the Chinese- looking gentleman if he understood English. He stared at her. “Sir, I need to know if you understand English. The person next to the emergency exit must understand the instructions of what to do in case of an emergency!” He stared blankly. “Sir, YOU ARE DELAYING THE PLANE!” She turned around. “Will anyone offer up their seat for this man and take on the door duty?” No one was willing to relocate. I considered for a moment. I had booked long in advance to secure my aisle seat or “bladder seat”. The air hostess was exasperated. “I will!” I volunteered. The Chinese man and I swapped seats and I took an oath to firmly pull down the door if ordered to. It was a proud moment. I was the appointed emergency door keeper. Country before bladder comfort and convenience. I later resisted the coffee and tried not to doze off in case of a sudden call to action. But what if the World Cup foreigners land next to these exits? Delayed planes, missed matches. Untold chaos.
And a warning to foreigners — don’t stress at the announcements in the airports. Ask someone to interpret for you. During my recent trip to South Africa, I heard the following over the intercom at OR Tambo International Airport: “Please proceed to chicken for body procedures”. I imagined a full-body scan at the Kentucky sign. (I later realised that she meant “proceed to the check-in for boarding procedures”.) More was to come. “Your flight has been delayed because the aircraft is … er … technical. I repeat, the aircraft is technical.” I choked on my R40 airport sandwich. For as long as I can remember, announcements at South African airports droned in “peg on the nose” style. I never understood a word. It’s 2010 and I’m still not sure what they’re trying to say.
Beware of the international departures security check.
“Let me check your hand luggage! Ahhh …” said the large bottomed officer, eyes gleaming (Lucky Dube’s twin bother? … as seen in The No 1 Ladies Detective Agency Series). Singing cheerfully and wiggling his bottom, he fingered my makeup and perfume. He settled on Happy and Sunflowers.
“Not allowed,” he said, nearly bursting with excitement. “I must confiscate these!” and he shoved them to one side.
“I want to speak to the manager!” I protested.
“Let me use my own discretion …” He reluctantly replaced my perfume but took an expensive face cream instead. The Indians girls behind me had a stand-up fight when he took their Nando’s sauce. “It could be used to blind the pilot,” he said, licking his lips. Infuriated, they stormed off. (So who gets the loot? Does SAA donate it to charity, perhaps?)
May the World Cup run smoothly. I don’t have a ticket but I’ve had fun preparing foreigners for the South African flights.





“(So who gets the loot? Does SAA donate it to charity, perhaps?)” Probably sold in a garage sale (”hangar” sale perhaps?) in an attempt to make SAA look profitable? Or perhaps bonuses for the staff who collect the items, similar to bonus plans for cops on amount of fines issued.
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