Having taken the train to Kazan I fly back courtesy of Tatarstan Airlines. To my slight distress the flight is scheduled to be on a boring old Boeing 737 and not the Tupolev Tu-134 or -154 that I’d love to try. Still it turns out to be a 737-500 and I can’t remember the last time I took one of those, if I actually have done. Must have, surely???
Kazan airport is quiet, clean and comfortable. And outside the Tu-134awaits, raising my hopes, but it is not to be and I doubt I’ll ever geton one of the beasts now.
Seat-pitchin the 737 is very short indeed. The lanky guy across the aisle fromme, who fortunately has a row to himself, is in the middle seat withone knee pressed against the left seat ahead of him and one against theright. But the 80min flight is fine, with free bread, fruit and water.
It’sa gorgeous, clear evening with visibility stretching to the incrediblydistant Russian horizon, the Volga River – more an elongated sea -passing beneath us, and the evening sun on the nose. It’s a rudeawakening to be back on Domodedovo’s congested ramp and an even ruderone to be ordered by some jumped-up asshole on the tarmac not tophotograph the 737. Here’s one for your album chum!