I ONCE flew from London to Adelaide, South Australia, on Indonesia’s Garuda airlines.
I cannot remember all of the journey — years of therapy have helped — but I seem to recall leaving in December 1986, and arriving some time in 1989.
En route, we stopped at least seven or eight times, including Germany, the United Arab Emirates, and Sydney. We were delayed for six hours in Jakarta because of a blackout at the airport.
The entire journey took 42 hours. I arrived in Adelaide ravaged by fatigue and malnutrition. As I and my fellow passengers disembarked from the flight, our sorry line of humanity resembled the aftermath of some grisly and prolonged hijacking.
Except none of us had succumbed to Stockholm syndrome where hijack victims become infatuated with their captors.
Advertisement
You were incredibly cheap Garuda — but never again. I would have paid ten times as much to fly non-stop.