I’m tired, I’m sore, I’m cranky. I want to kick something. I make my way to the check in desk at 7.30. No checking in yet. Much too early, says the cheerful fella at the desk. Be back in one hour. Why is he cheerful? I want to hit him. I’m not usually this aggressive, but sleeping vertically or at multiple odd angles makes me cranky.
An hour later. No, not yet. too early. Come back in 30 minutes, please. He’s still cheerful. I wish I had a gurney and a fishing knife (obscure G. Carlin reference).
10 minutes later I check in and go through security where I’m randomly checked again. Two out of three. Not bad. I’m at the gate. Aussie dude is there, still. Beth got on the early flight – she will make her interview. Paul is still around, looking like I feel. And a large, fresher batch of customers to disappoint. More wait, more films. You must watch “The shooting of Thomas Hurndale”.
Its 11.40, the board is flashing ” … boarding”, but there still is no plane. The EZJ desk is empty. We don’t know what the fuck. Aussie dude steps to the desk, turns the mic on and goes “Sorry, but the flight is an hour late. EZJ won’t bother telling us ‘cos they suck. So sit back, relax and enjoy your wait”.
An hour later, the plane finally shows up. The boarding starts, and Glasgow (via a bus and a train from Edinburgh) is nearly in sight. That’s when the fire alarm comes on and finishes blowing my mind. In 10 different fuckin’ languages. I dream of two-by-fours …
