(My father is a large man with a bushy white beard, still tinged with his original red, and wears small, gold-rimmed glasses. He gets called ‘Santa’ by everyone from little kids to random strangers. My parents are on a flight and there is a young mother with a very problematic young boy. The mother is clearly trying very hard to control her son, but he is running all over the plane, getting in the stewardesses’ way, and generally bothering people. Suddenly, he sees my father and stops dead in his tracks.)

Boy: “It’s Santa!”

Dad: *booming* “That’s right! And if you keep acting like this, you’re not getting anything this year!”

(The boy immediately runs back to his seat, sits down and shuts up.)

Mother: *mouths* “Thank you!”

(I’m on a flight with my grandmother. She is hard of hearing, so doesn’t always realize how loud she is. I’m sitting between her and another passenger who has been ordering a lot of drinks throughout the flight.)

Grandmother: “That man has had a lot to drink. You’d think he’d need to go to the toilet by now!”

Me: *trying to change the subject* “Uh-huh. Is your leg still aching?”

Grandmother: “Maybe he’s wearing a catheter!”

(I turn around and see the passenger facing the window, shaking with suppressed laughter. He mustn’t have minded though, because the next time the cart came past he offered to pay for our drinks too!)

(My father and I are on a plane, and I’m asking questions about airplane hijacks.)

Me: “How do the hijackers get into the cockpit? It’s not like they can just knock on the door and say, ‘Hi, can I hijack your plane?’”

Father: “Well, it used to be like that a while ago. The cockpit door wasn’t even locked, so anybody could just walk in. But now it’s much more difficult.”

Me: *after a pause* “So, what do the hijackers do now?”

Father: “I don’t know, maybe they work at McDonald’s instead?”

(I am on a plane, and a mother and her young daughter are sitting in front of me. The daughter is mostly well-behaved, though inquisitive.)

Daughter: *looking out the window at the clouds* “Mommy, I learned that heaven is up in the sky.”

Mother: “Yep.”

Daughter: “Is that heaven, outside?”

Mother: “Yes, honey, it is.”

(There is a pause as the daughter focuses on the clouds.)

Daughter: *accusingly* “But I don’t see God or Jesus anywhere!”

(We are on a flight back from a holiday in Spain. After a fantastic holiday, we’re all in a very good mood, having a good laugh and generally being a bit silly. The meals are served to us. Each meal is a fairly standard airline meal, with bread-cake (or bread roll) and butter, and a small dessert. My mum’s meal doesn’t have a portion of butter with it, but does have a bread-cake.)

Mum: *turning to me and my little brother* “I would like to introduce you, to the lonely bread-cake. This bread-cake is all alone in this world. The bread-cake, does not have any friends. You see, your bread-cakes have butter for friends, and each main meal has a dessert for a friend. The coffee has milk to talk to, but not my bread-cake. This bread-cake was abandoned, back when it was merely a ball of dough. No one to love it, care for it, or play with it. No one to tuck it in on a night, tell it bed time stories, or to comfort it when sad. I, however, will love the break-cake as though it were my own. I shall ensure that this bread-cake is no longer lonely, I will be its friend. I will be there to comfort it, and I for one, will not eat this bread-cake. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the no longer lonely bread-cake.”

(She gives the bread-cake a hug before putting it back on the tray. She eats the rest of her food, but refuses to eat her new found friend.)