On this past Saturday I ventured to the abscesses of
Anyway the roster for the trip was as follows:
- Make it to
- Find Cunzy11
- Drink Alcohol
- Purchase/Drink a Cosmopolitan with a Straight face.
- See David Gilmour.
- Break into the Big Brother house.
- Get home.
Now it’s 15mins to take off and I am starting to question the Big-Magical-Screen-of-all-knowing. I ask the fat-balding, possibly gay, boarding ticket guy, “What’s happening with the flight? The Big-Magical-Screen-of-all-knowing still says flight closed”.
He replies (with a VERY camp voice, previous suspicions have been confirmed), “Oh the screen is on the blink, everyone is boarding now”
I stare blankly
I rush through dumping as much metal crap as possible (keys, rings etc) in the plastic box, but of course the cunting metal door beeps. After being felt up by another guy with questionable sexuality, I run through the myriad of toblerones and perfume, through to the boarding lounge just to find that the kids have been let through and I am somehow at the front of the queue. BONUS. Not only did I not need to fuck about in the boarding lounge where anxiety frustration and boredom collide, but I was first on the plane. The window seat is mine!
To be continued....