Have you ever seen a fly flying in an airplane?
Well, on Friday I was on one of those flights that I hate to take because they leave Grantley Adams sevenish o’clock, which means I have to be out of bed by 4 a.m. and drink a cup of strong coffee to knock the sleep out of me. This definitely is not my cup of tea.
Nevertheless, before the captain had spoken to announce that the seatbelt lights were off, I had already pulled down my window seat shade to block out the morning sun and light, reclined my seat as far as it would go and was dead asleep.
When I awoke it was again to the captain speaking, this time announcing that he was about to make his descent to Miami International Airport where we would be landing in a short while.
One of the reasons I like a window seat is that I love to see the destination slowly approaching in the distance, then getting increasingly larger until I am right over all the buildings, houses, cars and other vehicles moving along the highways and byways.
Most of all I like to see the runway flying by beneath while anticipating the moment of wheels touching tarmac.
It was during that last period that a fly flying in the plane flew by and landed on the window a few inches from my face. Of course, it was a shock to me. The last thing I would expect to see on an international flight. No problem if I were island-hopping on a 20- or 30-seater with propellers and the door opening every half-hour or so to let off or take on passengers. I would expect that a fly, a grasshopper, a butterfly or even a bird might slip inside unseen.
Surprisingly, when it landed on the window I didn’t wonder how it got on board but rather what would be its fate when we landed at Miami International and it decided to disembark with all the regular passengers. That thought didn’t last too long because within seconds of landing on my window and taking a peek outside, it took off again.
That told me that it was a Bajan fly because, having flown out of sight for over three hours, it did not spend any long time checking what was unfolding on the outside. Rather, more than likely, it moved quickly to make sure nobody swatted out its lights before we landed and to determine how best to slip into the United States as undetected as it had slipped on board the plane in Barbados.
It also dawned on me that if it was indeed a Bajan fly, it would have no problem whatsoever continuing undetected and undetectable because, in true Bajan style, it would be buzzing like a Yankee even before the plane touched the ground.
And while I would have to stand in one of those long lines for visitors, then to have an immigration officer take my fingerprints, then to take off my glasses for him to take a mugshot of me, then for him to scan my visa to make sure it real and, after all of that and more, for him to ask what is my reason for entering the United States, that Bajan fly, with its adopted American accent, would have buzzed into one of the fast-moving American Citizens lines and be brushed on through without a word from any officer.
Eventually, when he does find his fellow Bajan community flies, it would immediately identify itself by wukking up like a Mother Sally and buzz-ella-ing out the C-word.
• Al Gilkes heads a public relations firm. Email algilkes@gmail.com