Are you checking that in Sir?
Here I am on another earth shattering commute to the homeland. Being a proud expat of the Irish persuasion living abroad (I know london isn’t exactly Hong Kong far, but hey it has a difference currency and everything), I tend to find myself surrounded by package holiday goers almost by monthly in the various airports that surround london. (I usually tend to pick who will get me there cheapest - who cares if its harder to get there? I’ve saved 5 pounds! or 6.20 in euros!). As I am a man that is annoyed easily ( I am a man, before you think differently) taking commuter planes, traveling with others, sitting in packed airports and putting up with queue skippers ( there fucking everywhere in a airport - *shakes fist profusely at the nearest queue skipper*) has me ill tempered and annoyed before the plane even takes off.
There are many situations we have to put up with while trying to enjoy our burnt coffee ( why is it all airport cafe’s burn there precious coffee?). So as I sit in Starbucks in Stansted airport nursing my burnt latte ( every fecking time Airport-starbucks*) surrounded by stressed out parents with bawling children ‘ I wanted the chocolate muffin daddy’ WAHHH - *dad goes to pub to leave mother to deal with it, mother breaks down in tears and kids bang there heads on the table*. Let me go ahead and divulge my observations of the commuter flight and airport kerfullfle. Or what fucking bugs me which ever.
Lines lines and more lines
If checking in a bag then step right up to the biggest line you have ever seen. All 10 Ryanair flights checking in at one desk for your major inconvenience. Of course this line is extra slow due to the baggage restrictions. The front desk is usually littered with frazzled mothers furiously stuffing there shoes and underwear into there child's Dora the explorer back-pack (while its still on the child's back) to safe on the 7 KG they are over. Listen love it ain't happen. The queue skippers are fierce trouble in this line. I'm rarely jealous of a mainland Europe accent, lets face it lads, my charming irish brogue gets me away with murder. However it seems to helps when feigning ignorance whilst skipping queues in airports. Lucky for me I'm usually flying home so some hap hazard Irish bogger* will step up and say what we are all thinking ' hey boy where you think your going? The queue starts back there buddy!' . And if they try the old ‘looked puzzled and confused’ he will repeat the key words with added curses (to help get the point across) all the while his hairy fingers are pointing to the end of the queue. ' QUEUE - BACK - FUCKING - THERE'.
Travelling with ryan air, is like the tubes at rush hour. First come, first served for seats, no fancy seating ( unless you pay for it) no priority boarding ' I have a child with me! ( unless you pay for it). This in turn starts a official/unofficial race to the gate as soon as it opens. Don’t lie we all do it. Trick is to commence the walk incognito... if the others find out, feck it lads, you better get going pronto. Everyone stands nonchalantly ( close but not too close) by flight update screen. Waiting, panting, bitting the nails, for the sign to switch to the magical words 'Go to Gate'. It's very tense this wait. But you can never show this. BING the sign changes. No one moves. Oh it's all very casual. You Clance up, squint your eyes, see the gate is open, you allow yourself to show mild surprise and start walking casually as if to say ‘ well i have nothing else better to do - and head to the gate. of course along the way you can smell out the competition ( accents, GAA* Jerseys and sports bags) these are the people to walk quicker than to beat, to get to the gate first and WIN.. for now. Next comes the checking of the bags AGAIN.
‘Are you checking it in sir?’
Bloody fecking carry-on luggage. This can have you stressed in the days impending your travel. ‘can i bring this? is it not very heavy? crap thats over 100ml’s. Not only do the airlines have the sheer cheek to charge through the roof for the flights with all the extra charges ( that online processing / check in fee always gets me every time Ryanair, am i not doing the work here, the checking in one line, but you still want paying for it? fancy some lube there cause your taking me for awful ride!) You don’t even get a checked-in bag these days, its all extra! Usually this means i am bound to a 10kg travel bag that i’m determined to bring on board and not splash the 20 pounds to check in. (unless its christmas of course, where would the presents go?). This means all clothes, electronics, toiletries, all accessories and sexy laundry, whips and toys have to fit in this one bag. What i usually do is bring my river island weekend bag, not to big in the looks, but pacts loads ( remember bridges bag? Yes that but with more style and no broken zip). Then employ my ‘light as a feather method’*. Hold it high up * cut to me dressed as Fraulein Maria *I HAVE CONFIDENCE IN SUNSHINE* running down the street with my bag swinging* Or cut to me sweat plastered on my face, my arm throbbing giving off a air of frazzled stress.
Let’s be honest, there always over weight. I’ve always managed to avoid the scales. Although, one particular evening, i almost got caught by the balls. I was rushing, proper late. The flight was a Thursday night after work. I was already running late and the sweat was dripping off me. I had a call earlier from the Mother asking for a bottle of Port to be picked up for my Grandad in the duty free - fuck it, my bag was already bulging with the weekend’s well thought out outfits for each day ( and drunken night). The extra litre of alcohol looked like it gotten my bag pregnant, but the zip at lest closed.
Belting it up the terminal towards the gate that was of course fecking miles away. I was thundering up with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ look on my face when out of no where, like a scene from the Birds* all these ryan air crows with too much make up and no inter-personal skills start clicking at people and stopping everyone ahead of me ‘STOP ... SIR sir you must get your bag weight, NO SIR SIR WE MUST WEIGHT YOUR BAG BEFORE YOU GO ANY FURTHER’. Oh shit, i’m in for it. I slow my walk to a tentative ‘you got me’. Then, an erldery man next to me caught my eye - i tried to give him the ‘what can you do, the feckers got us look’ when he looked me dead in the eye and said ‘ i say we should make a fucking run for it’.
You do not ned to tell me twice, i ran. Picked up my speed right passed the power tripping bitches ignoring all there ‘SIR SIR.... SIR you need to get weighed!!!!’ shrill calls. Probably not the best idea to run. Although they didn’t chase me and i got to the gate, i just hoped to god they didn’t radio ahead to warn there fellow crows to catch me out. They didn’t and thankfully they didn’t think i was a terrorist about to attack either.
The next part, almost resembles club entry. Do i look slutty enough to get in? Will they leave me and my fat friend ( in this scenario ‘fat friend’ is your bag) in tonight?. I hate trying to get your bag on the plane. One wrong look and its over, here they come, dragging there little ‘can you fit your bag in here’ box. No bitch, no of course its not going to fit in there, have you looked at me? Do i look like i travel light? As mentioned, i use ‘light as a feather method. It has served me well so far. I find myself scared they will catch me out, but on the opposite end, i love when they catch someone else. ( i did mention it was everyone for themselves), When caught, Its demanded of you, to fit your carry on bag into that small box (Have you ever seen someone try to get it back out of that cage box? Fecking hilarious it never comes out, they always have to stand on it and pull with all there might haha LOSERS) - this leaves me smug, they got you didn’t they you little whore, also am i next? will my arm survive until i get can passed the ticket check? Does that lady apply make up with a trowel*?
Peoples emotions tend to run high in this line so more often then not someones very personal dirty laundry is being well and truly drawn out for all to witness - cut to me pretending I'm not listening but really listening to very sordid word. ‘why cant you treat me like that?’ says bleached to shit blonde lady to gorilla like man squeezed into a tracksuit holding onto a baby. ‘ You always hurt the one you love, what goes around comes around, i know you fancy my sister!’ ‘ LITTLE BEYONCE ISN’T EVEN YOUR CHILD!’ ohh juicy.
Who's sitting next to you?
This can really go either way. You could be sitting next to the sweetest elderly couple in the world or a obese male with farting and personal space invading issues. Elderly couple will offer you a sweet for the take off to help take the pain away from your popping ears. Of course being me before they finish the sentence I'm already declining politely. This is usually before I reslise I really would like a starburst. Then I have to sit quietly watching them scoff there delicious starburst all the while wanting to ask for one but feel it might be crossing the line. ' what you want one now do ya bitch? Well you had your chance didn't you sunny jim'. Dam them generous feckers for offering in the first place. Why is it so Irish always politely decline any offer?
Even when we want/need what is being offered? 'Hello kind sir dying of thirst in a desert, here is a heaven sent water with ice.' ' no thanks sure I'm grand'. Opps your dead. ' Il tend to decline everything bar coffee and tea at a house ( after initially saying no once, waiting for the obligatory ' are you sure' or father ted esc 'G'on' ) also a mint to freshen up ones breath in work. No one likes bad breath - ever notice some people's breath literally recks like they have eaten shit for breakfast?
This is the good neighbour. I usually see these simple nice folk boarding the plane and taking a seat up a few rows graciously, tucking into a Maeve Binchy offering there packet of sweets around - this time I'm too far aware to say no but want one. This leaves room for the loud country waddler to park his/her rear right next / on top of me as they loudly rant over the little leg room.
In compete contrast, now you have the over bearing space invader. We all have one arm rest you bastard why do you need mine too? Is that your extra ass fat I see seeping into my chair. Who's cooking Vegetables with a side of scuttery shit? Ohh that's the smell from your reeking pits. Worse of all I think we can all agree is the chatty over friendly person which we all hate. No sir I don't fancy a chat about god, what I work at, the recession or the weather. You would think a hint as heavy as a anchor I drop would be picked up *slowly raising book towards face* popping head phones in, feigning sleep. No these determined bastard carry on with there boring droin ' terrible state the Countries in, I worry for the kids personally, there'll be nothing left for you lot'. I usually politely nod or go MMMMMMM, in what i hope to fuck, comes across as agreement and shut the fuck up i have i’m bloody reading Game of Thrones*.......bitch. I have even had some nut wanting a headphone to watch the movie I was watching on my iPad with me. I had to pretend the battery was going and turn it off so I could say no. How fecking cheeky - now no one can enjoy the movie asshole.
|Random fat guy, you get the idea|
Traveling is a necessary part of getting places so this is unavoidable. Its everything that can come with it is the problem. But then if it was simply what would i moan about? Try out the light as a feather method next time you fly. If your anything like me, you’ll be drinking burnt coffee with a throbbing arm, while avoiding the oozing extra ass fat from a over friendly guy sitting next to you, trying to watch what your watching. Feign sleeping is my advise, the only thing you can do to escape that shit. I finish this blog entry at my parents kitchen table with the early morning journey still fresh - i shall now sign off to enjoy my time at home. Until a few days where this shit gets real again.
Sometimes i forget to explain some of my sometimes irish influence words and worldly references. Here are some that featured in this blog entry.
1) bogger* = Irish country person, who loves drink and tractors.
2) Aiport starbucks* = I adore starbucks coffee, which is why i refer to this as airport starbucks, which seems to me, to be a different coffee shop, they always burn the coffee!
3) Fraulein Maria* = Sound of Music http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=eF04bqNIkNY
4) The birds* = bird scary movie. The birds attach various locations, a telephone booth being battered with birds is the most famous scene. One my favourite shows, that 70's show does a parody of this.
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