It would end with a dull pop.

Almost certainly followed by the staccato sound of five pops one after another.  And that would be the end of me. Unless they used a taser.

In truth, my fate would depend on the cabin pressure.  Or the altitude. Or the crew’s response. Or the air marshall’s.

Maybe, perhaps no one would hear.

Her severe expression answered that for me.

“You can’t take that on board with you,” she had said.

And she would be right. 

Because after the first pop it would be absolute airborne panic. Passengers screaming. Flight attendants scurrying.

I’d find out if there really were air marshals on this flight. They would leap out of their seats, guns drawn and clear the plane.

By then everyone would be running away. From the shopping bag under the seat in front of me. 

And the last thing I would see? Oh that would be the air marshall’s shadows as they pinned me to the floor. While they trussed me with cable ties.

I hate cable ties. Because I can’t even thread cable ties. Let alone escape from them, you know like hostages do in the movies.

Come to think of it. This carry on pop off with me episode would make a fantastic movie, I thought. Even better than Snakes on a Plane, we could call it Airplane 3: Popped in Flight.

It was then I realised. The airline check in person had read my mind.

Because she was still shaking her head at me. More in despair than in hope, I thought.  As she stared into my open shopping bag.

It was then I decided to try to make amends.

I leant forward, dropped my tone.

“So, that’s why they loosen the champagne bottle corks before flight? Right?“

I smiled.

“My ex was a flight attendant.”

A flicker of a smile. Followed by a sweeping gesture towards the security area.

“Make sure you get rid of it before going through security,” she said.

Or it would be worse for you, I heard her unspoken thought.

But at least I now know Christmas crackers can’t fly,  I thought, as I threw the shopping bag into a bin.