Airports are a hub of emotion. A place where all stereotypes of society come together. There is always that couple standing right at the entrance to the departures lounge. They embrace one another, no not embrace, they are trying with all their might to push themselves so closely together that they become one mangled human being - with four limbs, two heads, but awwwww, one heart. Vomit. They are so repulsively slobbering in each other’s faces, that I have the urge to close the eyes of the stranger child standing in the queue behind me.
Then there is the frantic family. A father, so haggard he looks like he hasn’t slept since the day his first child was born and a mother so strained I fear she may have an anxiety attack on the spot. Their 7 brats range from the 16 year old bitch, dressed in a Juicy Couture tracksuit, who only looks up from her Blackberry when she rolls her eyes; to the 1 year old angel who sleeps so soundly in his pram, but will most definitely spend the entire flight, sitting next to me of course, bawling his eyes out. Oh, and the mother is pregnant. With twins.
Then there is the guy who everyone (although they won’t admit it) eyes suspiciously. Muslim? Check. Wearing traditional clothing? Check. Carrying a suitcase? Check. OH MY GOD I THINK HE IS A TERRORIST!!!!!! I’m not even kidding, whilst sitting at the boarding gate, this blonde next to me - no seriously, I’m really not joking - pointed at a Muslim chap and whispered to her companion, “Do you like, think they would like... You know, check that guy... For a... like.. a… bomb or something?” Holy shit.
I moved away from the blonde because her perfume (and intellect) was breaking my soul and sat down next to a nice looking lady in a bright red coat. I liked her coat, it was pretty. She kept looking at me shiftily. I knew I didn’t smell. I don’t (think) I look like a terrorist. And since she was reading the You Magazine (I try not judge) and not “Hot Tits & Ass”, I was pretty sure she wasn’t lesbian. However, she was clearly trying to build up the courage to say something to me and all of a sudden she faced me, inhaled and splurted out “Goeie more, hoe gaan lakhedfkjnflksdjnasldkjhan alksjdlajdf by die lkj akgasdfgsdfj winkel ndfl,sjndf;ajsdnf;aksnfkkkkf;akjnfdandnfasd dddjkjkndakdn moet gaan alkjflskjdnflkjnf lepel.” She then smiled the world’s most cheesy smile, patted me on the shoulder, showed me her magazine cover, stood up and walked away. Wtf.
Still reeling from this experience, I gathered my goods and proceeded to board. Thankfully, frantic family were nowhere to be seen and from the looks of it, there were no evil child-spawn on my flight. Yay.
If you have ever flown one of the cheap airlines you would know that sometimes, just sometimes, when the planets align just right, and the world tilts to precisely the right angle, juuuust sometimes, you get bumped up to BA or SAA. I.e. More leg room, bigger seats and FREE FOOD. But today was not my day. There she was; the green-emblazoned Kulula plane, with her gaudy luminescent seats and staff who insisted on telling jokes. Not only was I not getting free food, but I had also forgotten to draw cash before the flight. Gosh darn, that prego roll had sounded so great. I was however, very lucky to have an empty seat next to me which made me very, very happy. For some reason the seats had been emblazoned with emoticons (or punctuation-style faces for the technically re-tarded). I would understand a smiley face on the upholstery of an aircraft, but for some reason the face was this one:
So I’m in Durban for a week. Looking forward to spending time with the family and just having a good old-fashioned chill.
I wonder what the Afrikaans lady was saying to me.
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