Anyone who tells you a ten-hour flight is fun is either lying or far wealthier than I. There are several ways to describe extended travel in Economy Class (aka ‘Steerage’), but ‘fun’ isn’t high on the list.

Especially when the guy in the seat in front of you weighs a bit more than the seat was designed for.  When he fully reclined his seat (i.e. for about 9.6 hours of the 10-hour flight) there was slightly less than 6 inches between the back of his chair and my nose.

Enh. Whatever.  I was going to sleep through most of the flight anyway, so how much space did I need?  I leaned back, closed my eyes, and slowly drifted off…

Until he stared snoring.

Or maybe he was slowly drowning to death in warm lard.

In any case, it was the sort of noise that I just can’t help listen to, in horrified fascination. Each time it would pause I couldn’t help but sit on the edge of my seat (metaphorically – if I had actually moved to the edge of my seat I would have broken my nose on the back of his skull) and wait for the throat-singing to come again.

Thinking of which, maybe this guy was a monk from Tuva and was warming up.

I take it all back. This fella wasn’t annoying at all. Far be it from me to disparage the throat-singers of Tuva.