The Joys of Air Travel
Airports were once a beacon of high society. Ladies in heels and pearls used to dress to impress for a three-hour journey in the air, surrounded by groping men drunk on whiskey, ready to breathe hot air filled with people’s farts. Truly, it was a simpler time. A better time.
Of course air travel has moved on since then, in no ways whatsoever.
The first leg of my journey took place in a private-for-hire carriage called a ‘Bus’ (the number 500, specifically) decked out in glorious purple and filled with the great unwashed and belligerent masses.
Upon my arrival to Glasgow airport, I was at first dismayed to find that there were very few Pokestops, and just a Pidgey in the vicinity. I did, however, see this to be a good thing when I realised that falling giant metal cylinders were best avoided in search of an Eevee.
From the terminal, it was time to find myself some of the great bargains this world has to offer – time to run the Gauntlet of Duty Free!
The Gauntlet of Duty Free is a formidable foe to any traveller. First, you must dodge the evil hags of cheap perfume, desperate to cover you in Au de Cologne – a mysterious potion that stings your eyes but is meant to make you attractive? I began the Gauntlet outside a shop of my namesake:
I’m proud to say that I managed to dodge the hags of perfume and the keepers of Victoria’s Secret without being stung by cheap CK or blinded by cut-price Ray-Bans, only to find myself in the next great feature of any airport – that’s right, queues!
Admittedly I am an Englishman (and as an Englishman I can wait in queues like no other) but I always find my knuckles white and a deep growl inside my chest when faced with a terminal queue. On one such occasion I tried to push a man to the ground for pushing into a queue. You don’t push, that’s rude.
When it comes down to it, though, I’ll always enjoying flying. Because sometimes, when the airline doesn’t screw you over with fees and maybe you get a complimentary bottle of orange juice, you get to look out of the window and see something like this …
I’ll forever judge passengers who get a window seat, but don’t spend the entire time staring outside in awe. Come on, everyone. There are clouds… below you! That’s freakin’ awesome! Well, I’ll never stop doing it, no matter how long I’m on a plane, or how often – and if you don’t care about clouds, please give me your window seat, and I’ll do my best to enjoy it more than you.
Glasgow to Gatwick; it’s all queues and view, but unfortunately, given the current climate of world fear of terror (that’s weird, right, being afraid of terror? Anyway…) lighters aren’t allowed. I guess that’s a little against the point for The Lighter Journal, but sometimes you need to remind people – you get to go above the clouds!
Edited by: Floss Hafter-Smith