Adventures in Svealand
Staring at the pilot’s seat in front of me, with its back unattached, unscrewed, and shredded, I wondered what in the world had convinced me this would be a good idea.
I was strapped into a tiny airplane that had space for just three passengers and the pilot, that would soon (supposedly) be taking off to
fly over Stockholm and the archipelago. I’d seen it take off before… It would probably be successful again… right?
But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s start at the beginning where a lovely offer arrived in the email – just 200kr per person to have an amazing flight over Stockholm, an amazingly cheap offer supposedly because it was being operated by a non-profit organization. All we had to do was book a time, and show up. There would be food, drinks, and airplanes on display.
When something sounds too good to be true, it most likely is.
Genesis: The Beginning
Gathering up in our little group, we set out on our adventure. One bus, one subway, one more bus, and then yet another bus and we found ourselves… in the middle of no-where. Also known as “Ekerö”. Nothing ahead of us… nothing behind us… nothing to the left… (Can you guess?) Nothing to the right! The returning bus only came every two hours.
Our fellow vict… I mean… travellers… milled around us and eventually began wandering up the road. No one knew where we 
were, or where we were supposed to go. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of… airfield? People? Something? Ah.. a small badly written cardboard sign… It was like a scene out of Hostel where you scream at the characters, GO BACK!
Eventually we ended up at a dead end, with a barbed wire fence. But we were not to be deterred. With some effort, and an amazing amount of clothing not getting ripped, we managed to navigate the fence, and make our way towards what seemed to be airplanes and a tiny shack. We were, in fact, in the right place.
Purgatory: The Wait
Upon our arrival, the first thing we learned was that they were behind schedule. At first it seemed like a small thing. We were there at noon, and had booked a time for 1pm. But it seems that they weren’t just behind schedule… they had no schedule. The schedule was completely redundant and of absolute no worth. The non-profit organization was, in fact, a club related to students at KTH.
They dubbed us “the French group”, despite the fact that only one out of the four of us was actually French, and told us we could go up after the German group… or maybe the Chinese group (who were speaking Swedish to each other. Yes, I’m easily amused and distracted.) Soon anyway… as soon as possible. Meanwhile, want some burned sausages and diet pop that will make your stomach hurt and give you a headache?
And so, we waited. And slowly felt our extremities go numb… well, actually, didn’t feel it. Which is kind of the point. It was a chilly and windy day, despite the sun shining. Lying in the grass, under the sun, was actually warmer than being inside the shack. The time for the bus’s arrival came, and went. We watched in bitter silence as the planes took a 60-minute break for some unfathomable reason between trips. The pilots had some sort of negative sense of humour. Anything they said to try to be funny was as automatically empty and valueless as their promises of “soon”.
Ascension: Take-off
And now we’re back to where I started. Sitting in the rickety plane, with tattered seats, wondering – why?
The pilot was explaining the rules to us, and making the front seat passenger open and close the emergency door… our last chance to escape. Then we put on our headphones, which were about as good for hearing each other as using two cups with attached strings, when the strings have been cut.
Down the runway we went, as the flat empty countryside rolled past. I tried to focus on my breathing so I wouldn’t trigger an asthma attack, when suddenly the bottom dropped out of my stomach and we were airborne! Higher and higher, until houses were tiny little toys and there was a just blue sky all around.
Nirvana: Flight
It was absolutely utterly breathtakingly amazing. The city spread out beneath us was a surrealistic picture, with all of the landmarks turned
into tiny toy versions of themselves. The sun glistened on the water, and the plane dipped and turned on it’s wingtips as if it was in some sort of ballet. The archipelago’s smattering of islands resembled a trail of cookie crumbs, breaking away from the mainland.
We were still locked in a tiny little metal cabin, and I still had to clutch BaroqueW’s knee to keep semi-calm, but at the same time it was as if I couldn’t feel the plane as an object surrounding me anymore. I moved with the plane, so when it turned, so did I. It was more like riding a 4-wheeler (or ATV as non-rednecks tend to call them, note from the editor), only through the sky instead of on the ground. Which may sound odd to people who haven’t been on one but, compared to commercial airlines, it’s a very valid metaphor. It was much more personal and intense.
It was wonderful, beautiful, and worth every penny. Or krona.
Although I’m not sure the 4 hour wait was.
My thanks to Grégoire for taking the pics, and to BaroqueW for posting them!
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