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Luton Airport May 31, 2006

Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
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Oo-ee-oo.

Another jaunt to the kingdom. Family duties. Not a second of free time. OK, a second, when I made my pilgrimage, coldly, to Waterloo Bridge, sucked in the view and got back on public transport to carry on being dutiful.

My flight back was delayed. I sat in Luton Airport for three hours, people-watching. I tried to guess who’d get on the Berlin flight. (This got easier as time went on and I could see the types that were as silent and motionless as long as I was.) It was fun guessing where the non-Berliners were going to. “Quick, Trace, we’ve got to get to gate 25.” (Look up to screen. Gate 25 = Palma de Mallorca. Smug inward satisfaction at having guessed right.) The following eventually made their way to gate 18 to shuffle onto the Berlin flight without a hint of an apology or a free compensatory Easyjet coffee:

1) Every white person with dreadlocks in the airport.

2) Every person under 27 who looked as if they wouldn’t mind participating in a revolution.

3) A fairly hefty proportion of the Luton Airport homosexuals.

4) A swarm of women, lips pursed, with short blond hair and glasses.

5) A couple of businessmen – one ludicrously tall and young-looking in his whistle – who presumably hadn’t been able to book a flight to Frankfurt on time and didn’t realise that it would cost them 700 euros to get from B. to F. with Deutsche Bahn.

6) 14 million Poles.

7) Assorted other wankers.

Still, had my passport checked by a ravishing policeman at Schönefeld with a lovelily sprouting hairy chest and an organ-melting and loin-troubling smile. It’s fucking good to be back.

Comments»

1. Wyndham - May 31, 2006

“A lovely sprouting hairy chest.” How much did it grow, exactly, during your passport check?

2. daggi - May 31, 2006

You do like a man in uniform.

3. Bowleserised - May 31, 2006

Missed you! Are you coming to the Stammtisch tomorrow? I had chest-hair related work recently, and I have to admit it was a challenge for the thesaurus.

4. daggi - May 31, 2006

Tomorrow or today? I may well seriously consider it too…

And indeed, welcome back.

5. Bowleserised - May 31, 2006

Thursday. Usual time, usual place.

6. Adrian - June 1, 2006

I do exactly this when flying back to Ireland. The rural types can be spotted from, well, metres away.

7. leon - June 1, 2006

What’s a Stammtisch?

8. daggi - June 2, 2006

“Stammtisch” = meeting in pub, bar, generally Eckkneipe, with (in a formal, organised context) a reserved table (Tisch) for regular (Stamm) guests.

(turns off dictionary-speak mode)

9. Wyndham - June 4, 2006

Bib, why are you being so enigmatic. Speak.

10. patroclus - June 4, 2006

God, I love this blog.

Today I appear to be mostly leaving short comments, prefixed with the word ‘God’. This may be some kind of hangover from Christi Himmelfahrt, though I’m not in the least bit religious.

11. Bowleserised - June 4, 2006

As soon as you mention the word “Stammtisch”, BiB magically disappears…

12. BiB - June 5, 2006

Darlings you are all much too kind. Please feel free to never bother your arses visiting or commenting again when all I do is abusively ignore and be taciturn. That’ll learn me. But it’s just the combined effects of the jaunt to the kingdom, not having worked, therefore a rush of work, and now guests. Non-stop recreation. I promise I’ll write some more bollocks soon.

13. Wyndham - June 5, 2006

Guests! I used to have those!

14. BiB - June 6, 2006

Guests are awfully good for a relationship. Maybe they’re the gay equivalent of children. Just when you feel a bit as though things are floundering, up pop guests and give you a new lease of life. The Russian and I even SPEAK these days. Imagine!


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