Reasons to hate Reading #5

Or Heathrow would be more exact.  Then again technically it’s Readings fault I was even on the plane, so…

Do you know this guy?

I do.

Not that I’ve actually exchanged any conversation with him at any point.  In fact, our entire relationship only commenced when I spied him in the business lounge and the thought occurred that he was somewhat familiar/obvious trouble/possibly off the telly. 

Luckily just which of those options it would turn out to be was clarified during the delayed take off and journey to Glasgow as he thoughtfully narrated the entirety of his adult life up until the point of boarding the plane to the woman sat next to him, which despite the presence of my headphones was still painfully audible to me.

I’m torn in choosing my highlight of the entire trip to be honest.  Here’s my top three:

  • Hauv you been in that lounge at Heathrow by the way?  There’s drink in there an’ it’s a’ free.  Take as much as you want!  Free!  It’s amazin’…” which then led onto the revelation that he didn’t have a business class ticket and had in fact blagged his way in accompanying a lady and gent who’d been travelling from Australia for 50 hours.  Obviously he didn’t get the opportunity to take as much as he wanted though as we’ll see…
  • Having ordered a double vodka and tomato juice and a “wee extra bottle on the side” when the drinks trolley came round and as we maintained our holding pattern above Glasgow asked for another without finishing the first.  As the seat belt light came on and we began our descent the cabin crew asked him to put his tray up he lifted a glass in each hand and retorted “Ah cannae’ get it up hen, A’ve a gless in each haun and two boatles oan the tray.  Wheer dae you think a’m gonnae pit them aw’?”  He then balanced both glasses through the turbulent high wind landing with the bottles between his thighs, then when we touched down necked them both.  Why couldn’t he have done that 10 minutes before?  Incidentally he might’ve wanted to reconsider the phrasing of that witty rejoinder as I’m sure it impacted his next gambit…
  • As the plane taxied to the gate he turned to the long-suffering woman sat by the window and said, “so, are you gonnae gie us yuir numer hen?”  For those in any doubt that a string of digits would then gush forth from her lips, let me just clarify that her response was “why would I give you my number?” possibly because she recalled him alluding to his erectile dysfunction condition in front of BA staff shortly before.  Not to be defeated he replied, “C’mon, you’ve hud a gid time, A’ve hud a guid time, it’s a shame to let it fienish…“, clearly misunderstanding how the allocated seating worked on the plane and assuming the poor girl had only sat there because she was into him…

As I related my in-flight entertainment to my colleagues at the baggage claim, I glanced over to my left and there he was once more, deep in conversation with a substantially older, grey haired woman this time.  I like to imagine, being old enough to be his mother that she similarly gave him the knock back.  Still, God loves a trier…


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