Israeli Ms. Golden-Claws vs. Swedish Proper Flight Attendant

Already as I get to my seat on the plane in Stockholm I notice the differences between our two cultures.

In the seat in front of mine, a good looking woman in her early forties is doing a Hebrew cross word. Her seat is reclined so I can’t put my big bag underneath it. I pat her shoulder and say “Can you pull your seat forward so I can put my bag underneath, please?” I smile at her, she looks nice, big Israeli tits, tanned skin, lots of black around her eyes and her fingernails are well manicured - the very tips of them are painted in glittery golden nail varnish.

She smiles at me with a lost look that I know very well, it’s a look that says, “Oh dear silly me! I had no idea I was in your way!” and at the same time she is thinking “I very well know that I am in your way but I was hoping I would get away with it.” Slightly mischievous but not mean in any way.

She says sorry and pulls her seat up but then adds “Can I put it back down again when you sit?”

“Yes, of course, I don’t mind, but I think the flight attendant will tell you to raise it up until we are up in the air”

“Oh yes, until we are up in the air” she says with the same mischievous smile.

The flight is calm and comfortable since I get three seats to myself.

The Israeli Ms. Golden-Claws makes friends with the timid Indian boy next to her and they exchange numbers within five minutes. Then the family in the seat in front of Ms. Golden-Claws realise they are from the same country and a wild babble begins, the two little kids pop up and down on their seats like those things at the funfair that you have to hit with a large rubber sledge hammer. They are screaming and laughing so much that I actually wish I had a large rubber sledge hammer.

The light for “fasten your seatbelts” goes on and the pilot announces that we will land in 15 minutes and could we raise our seats up in the upright position and fold our trays up and fasten our seatbelts…

The flight attendant walks slowly up the aisle doing his thing, until he reaches Ms. Golden-Claws who is comfortable in her reclining chair, tray down so she can do her crossword on it.

Twice he tells her to put her tray up. The first time she does, but as soon as he takes a step she folds it down again. He backs a little and smiles patiently at her and asks her again to fold her tray up – and could she please also raise her backrest!

“Oh dear” Ms. Golden-Claws giggles as if caught in the act, but raises her seat.

As soon as he is out of the way she puts it back down again.

Another stressed flight attendant rushes forward and urges her to do as she is told, Ms. Golden-Claws apologises and does what she is told – again with the mischievous smile.

The plane starts to descend.

Suddenly Ms. Golden-Claws is standing up and leaning over the seat in front, talking with the Israeli family. The annoying three year old also unclasps his seat belt and starts jumping on his seat. The mother and Ms. Golden-Claws chat for 2 minutes before a very red faced flight attendant comes up to them and says that they really have to sit down and fasten their seats belts since we are landing very soon. Ms. Golden-Claws flashes a great big smile at him and says impatiently “Yes yes, wait, I must give her my phone number”

The flight attendant argues with her “No I must insist, you can get hurt, you must sit down”

Just as Ms. Golden-Claws says “that it will be she who maybe will get hurt so it is her own responsibility”, just as she utters these words, the plane does a sharp turn to the left and Ms Golden-Claws is thrown head first, passed her Indian friend and into the aisle.

I start to laugh, can’t help myself and get a nasty look from Ms. Golden-Claws who is helped up by the malicious flight attendant.

This contrast. The breaking of rules. The non respect for regulations and norms, this is the culture I am going to.
I am coming from the country with the people who love queues, adore regulations and would never ever even consider doing something that someone else might find wrong.

It takes a while to get used to and I don’t know if I ever will get used to it completely. Some days I'll probably be irritated by the lack of respect for rules or ways, cause with rules and norms life can be smoother.

A bit more boring but smoother.

But then on the other hand I hate to follow the stream or to do as I am told.
So most days I will probably just smile at the unruliness of the Israelis and feel a bit sorry for them because in their strife of living a life “doing what they want” they trip themselves up.

The amount of time it takes to shop, to drive through town, to get an official stamp is so much longer when everybody has to do it his own way.