‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello.
Greetings from somewhere between the Atlantic Ocean and Australia. I feel bad because W has writing far more entries than me but to be fair my entry was a lot longer than hers. And I’ve been busy packing for my trip to Australia!
Yep I’m off to
Firstly, I had to wake up at 5:30 this morning. Now currently I’ve been on summer break which means I’ve been staying up late and sleeping in. So that came as a shock to the system. And last night I had nightmares that I missed my flight. (Oh My God I’m turning into my mother! I thought that didn’t happen until I was middle-aged!) and so I conclude that wacky body clock + fear of missing flight + fear of turning into my mother + early wake up time = very little sleepy time. Not the best way to start out a two day journey.
Secondly, I hate flying. Trust me as soon as they invent teleportation I will never touch an airplane again. You have my word. Seriously, what is there to like? What is the redeeming feature? I mean, flying is the bane of my existence. It is to me what Heathcliff is to Linton. It is to me what Voldemort is to Harry Potter. It is to me what Sauron is to Frodo. Okay so you get the point. Flying is my arch nemesis and I’m a fantasy nerd. So shoot me! No actually, please don’t.
Thirdly, I am bloated beyond this world will allow. They don’t sell any food in airports except stuff that is fatty, fried, battered, grease, fried again, covered in bread crumbs and fried again just to make sure you have a heart attack. Even the salads are covered in a high fat dressing that gives them the same caloric value as Double Mac Burger and fries. I mean how hard is it to import a little fruit and veggies? I mean beyond the stir fry Chinese that may not be fried but is neck high in sodium. How about an apple? Ever heard of that?
Fourthly, (this is a very long list), there are freaking security guards everywhere. I mean they are swarming the place like ants. And they do just about as much work. Actually I take that back. A bunch of ants would be much more effective as employees. No seriously, they should replace all of the security guards with ants. I mean the ants can carry like three times their weight, they are pretty loyal, they don’t need to be paid, and they don’t go on vacation, ask for maternity leave or retire, ever. They work till they die!
Fifthly, I have never encountered more uncomfortable seats than the seats on an airplane. Nope, sorry I take that back too. The seats in airport lounges are much less comfortable. I mean it’s not like it would cost much more to get the sweat shop in china that made them to put a bit more padding on them. And why are there arm rest every seat? Surely they should understand that some people are laying over for a fair few hours and they could do with a bit of kip. So put the arm rest every other seat, or every two seats. That way the money you save from reducing the armrests you can put into adding padding to the seats.
Sixthly, they always put the plugs next to the trash cans and the least number of seats. So we find a suitable seat next to a plug, (and incidentally a trash can) with no other neighbours except for a slumbering elderly woman. Everything is perfect, or so it seems. Soon we discover that the plug doesn’t really work, the area is soon crowded with everyone queuing up to charge their laptops, everyone is shouting because their ears are still blocked from the flight and, oh the joy, the trash can is full and stinking. Oh and any hope of moving seat has been extinguished as all of the rest of the seats have been taken in the space of about fifteen minutes.
Seventhly, (I told you this was a long list), fights are NEVER on time! Yep the dreaded hour has arrive our flight has been delayed for one hour. This means the layover is actually longer then the flight. How the hell does that work?! You know, I think if the flight is delayed for more than, roughly, three hours through a fault of the airline you can sue them. As time passes that option is becoming more and more attractive.
Eighthly, the time difference is a real soul-breaker. Let me explain, when I am on my laptop I am constantly glancing at the clock to check the time. However my laptop clock is set to the time at home and so is incorrect here. So you can imagine how I feel. I glance at the clock. It says 6:13. Yes! I think, Only 1:15 until the flight! Then I remember about the time difference and my mood plummets. Damn it we still have 2:15 until we start boarding. Depressed I return to writing the blog only to glance at the clock again, get my hopes up and have them crushed again.
Ninthly, it is physically impossible for airport book stores to have any good books. The only thing they stock is boring business ‘how-to’ books, George W. Bush’s autobiography (where the most exciting thing is his ability to open a box of corn flakes without consulting his babysitters, I mean, ‘secret service’) and the Twilight series, they don’t even stock Harry Potter! I mean what type of half decent bookstore doesn’t even stock Harry Potter.
And I guess I could look in the other stores, like the over expensive tech store that stocks products only the richest of the rich could afford without taking out a second mortgage on their mansion, err, I mean house. Or I could look in the tourist store which is really just a half-hearted, last ditch effort for the country to rip-off some mindless, brain-dead, sorry excuse for a human who would really qualify better to be part of a herd of cattle than the human race. Yeah I would much rather spend time there. Not.
*Sighs*
Can you believe that you could make a nonagon with all of the reasons I have given for being angst-y at the moment? And guess what, there are plenty more where they came from. I haven’t even mentioned the amount of time we spent riding around on the air-train, aka the next-type train that only goes around the airport and is even more confusing than the London underground. Well almost. And the rather pathetic food court that we spent at least an hour trying to find and were then severely disappointed (understatement!) when we recognised how limited it really was. And all of the general idiots that surround us. I mean seriously this girl next to me is talking to a guy next to her who says he is from France, “Born and raised there,” I quote. Want to know her first question? Do ya? Do ya? Here it is, and I quote, “So do you speak French?”... I’m just gonna leave that to sink in...
And so now you understand the extent of my situation....
Oh the joys....
And that’s my time... good night everybody!
-N
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