"Which flight are you on, sir?"
"The six o'clock."
"Right. I'm afraid that flight's been cancelled, sir."
"Oh really?" (First surge of adrenalin of the holiday, and it's a big one.)
"Technical difficulties at Newark. Do you have your passport?"
"Yes, here."
Silence of unbearable tension.
"Okay, I'm afraid the next flight's not till the same time tomorrow, sir."
Think. What would Gandhi do if he were in my situation right now? Probably denounce Western civilization, no doubt and not be found in a major European restaurant. No help. Mandela? Right now, he'd probably fall over and die. No, I am going to have to work this one out on my own.
"But I can't miss my connecting flights. I have a wedding." I can never resist cranking up the guilt-trip stakes with such fabrications. If this escalates I'm going to have to move up to 'Dying Mother'...
"I appreciate that, sir. Well, if you'd like to make your way to Desk 3 they will see what they can do."
*
Well! What they could do was very graciously fit me in on the 20:30 Virgin flight, which causes no real aggravation to me since I have an overnight wait at Newark anyway. I feel this very satisfactory solution to the crisis is most richly deserved, given the calm and collected manner with which I conducted myself throughout. I also managed to squeeze every one of my sub-100ml bottles into the provided clear plastic bag, save one mere, paltry tub of Vaseline (filthy anal nights with Nicaraguan hookers will just have to find their own lubricants) and I'm now through all the official bollocks and into the departure lounge.
Things have really picked up since the initial fiasco, thanks to a cracking choice of wine to accompany my somewhat indulgent (but I'm on holiday - fuck it) steak and chips for dinner. I selected an absolutely corking Rioja: Crianza Solemanero (don't know the vintage) that really held its own against the bearnaise sauce in a way that I don't think the Chateau Tour de Barreil I was flirting with quite could have. (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence.)
The Rioja is so good, in fact, that I've ordered another large glass. Probably didn't need that Staropramen as well.
*
Having not even moved from the table I sat down at for dinner, I have already had interesting conversations with a couple of people. One lady is Swedish and works in finance. She is by no means a spare wheel in the discussion but is decidedly less interesting than the other guy, a lecturer in European law in Bristol of all places! He answers my questions about the various conventions of human rights law and the ways in which Britain is and isn't bound to these different conventions. It sounds complicated. I remark on this level of complexity and posit the notion that those members of the public who might take part in a referendum on these issues may not do so fully acquitted with the knowledge necessary to make an informed judgment. My associate replies that this may well be exactly what the Euro-skeptics are banking on.
*
More drinks. Some people going to Helsinki. Their flight has been delayed too. One is them is from York and works in TV. Through to the departure lounge. Drunken crossword. Board plane. Flying.
"The six o'clock."
"Right. I'm afraid that flight's been cancelled, sir."
"Oh really?" (First surge of adrenalin of the holiday, and it's a big one.)
"Technical difficulties at Newark. Do you have your passport?"
"Yes, here."
Silence of unbearable tension.
"Okay, I'm afraid the next flight's not till the same time tomorrow, sir."
Think. What would Gandhi do if he were in my situation right now? Probably denounce Western civilization, no doubt and not be found in a major European restaurant. No help. Mandela? Right now, he'd probably fall over and die. No, I am going to have to work this one out on my own.
"But I can't miss my connecting flights. I have a wedding." I can never resist cranking up the guilt-trip stakes with such fabrications. If this escalates I'm going to have to move up to 'Dying Mother'...
"I appreciate that, sir. Well, if you'd like to make your way to Desk 3 they will see what they can do."
*
Well! What they could do was very graciously fit me in on the 20:30 Virgin flight, which causes no real aggravation to me since I have an overnight wait at Newark anyway. I feel this very satisfactory solution to the crisis is most richly deserved, given the calm and collected manner with which I conducted myself throughout. I also managed to squeeze every one of my sub-100ml bottles into the provided clear plastic bag, save one mere, paltry tub of Vaseline (filthy anal nights with Nicaraguan hookers will just have to find their own lubricants) and I'm now through all the official bollocks and into the departure lounge.
Things have really picked up since the initial fiasco, thanks to a cracking choice of wine to accompany my somewhat indulgent (but I'm on holiday - fuck it) steak and chips for dinner. I selected an absolutely corking Rioja: Crianza Solemanero (don't know the vintage) that really held its own against the bearnaise sauce in a way that I don't think the Chateau Tour de Barreil I was flirting with quite could have. (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence.)
The Rioja is so good, in fact, that I've ordered another large glass. Probably didn't need that Staropramen as well.
*
Having not even moved from the table I sat down at for dinner, I have already had interesting conversations with a couple of people. One lady is Swedish and works in finance. She is by no means a spare wheel in the discussion but is decidedly less interesting than the other guy, a lecturer in European law in Bristol of all places! He answers my questions about the various conventions of human rights law and the ways in which Britain is and isn't bound to these different conventions. It sounds complicated. I remark on this level of complexity and posit the notion that those members of the public who might take part in a referendum on these issues may not do so fully acquitted with the knowledge necessary to make an informed judgment. My associate replies that this may well be exactly what the Euro-skeptics are banking on.
*
More drinks. Some people going to Helsinki. Their flight has been delayed too. One is them is from York and works in TV. Through to the departure lounge. Drunken crossword. Board plane. Flying.
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