The journey (part 1 of the weeding)

...plink plink plink

arrive a l'aeropuerto.

Plane delayed.

Much uneventful.

Many for a small internal flight, but good for the aeroplane co.

There was the tall woman with the short man ... hmm. Never got that, myself.

Left my baggage and was given a window seat - cloud watching, yeah! Seat 7A, to be precise.

Finally get on the plane.

Wander up to my seat and THERE'S AN OLD BAG IN IT!!!!!!!!!! Well, she was over 50, maybe 40 if she'd had a hard life and indubitably compis mentis.

"Excuse me?", I enquire, "Is this row 7?", knowing full well it was.

"Yes." she replied, with a wan false smile.

At this juncture, let me explain a couple of things to you. Firstly, in semi-polite English society, of which the public space and a degree of knowledge of middle-classness are elements my enquiry was coded (and understood as so) and meant "Check your ticket. You're in my seat. AND I WANT IT!" It's pointed, but polite and allows for saving face.

Secondly. This woman understood that full well. And like old people of her ilk, she was of the "I'm taking what I can for myself" school of thought.

I decide that I'm not going to play this simply and ask for the seat that I want (because I like to look out of the window and ... do what I do and do lots of it) which would resolve the matter because there's something about her that I don't like. Oh, that's right, it's the bending of the rules attitude that is ok, if accepted, but once you're caught, hold up your hands and take your punishment.

So I decide to do something else.

Now this will come as a surprise to you, but

I

can (on occasions only, you understand?)

be ... a tad (a smidgin, even)

ANNOYING

Mmm. Don't be shocked. Jonny has many tools in his cupboard, weapons in his arsenal, socks on the floor.

Back to the story:

The plane is delayed.

The woman is English and old (just to emphasis the point and be yet more obnoxious) and isn't even intent on looking out of the window: she has a crappy book!

Here's a quote from the book: "Time, like a doctor, washed its hands off us." F-shite! That crap got published?! In print?! What a waste of recycled toilet paper! What turgid, foetid, rank drivel!

And as for the person who reads such drivel...? Purgatory is a place too welcoming for them!

So I do what I do well...(the thought of this will give me many hours of pleasure! Thank you Mrs. Dog-butt face! Oh! Sorry, you're probably not a Mrs., are you? Seeing as you're old and travelling...alone.... Ha!).

I take up the whole of the middle arm rest with MY arm.

I lean over and look out of the window by MY seat. And the window behind. And the window in front. I'm like one of those irritating bows stuck to a fan. Flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, I just can't keep still and I'm like (I imagine, cause I've never seen the programme itself) Big Bird in Sesame Street doing a chicken dance. Sometimes on speed.

Personal space. The English. Especially old English. Especially female English. Together we have a synergistic effect of +50, I reckon. The English. They like their personal space. That 3 feet is sacrosanct. People have done studies on it. Easy way to make a living, isn't it?

I cut it down to 6 to 9 inches. Pretty good. But hold that thought. And jigpop, jigpop, jigpop, jigpop...

It's not enough, of course.

I do have trouble with pressure changes in the ears. OUCH! There was no gum to buy, so I obtained some horrible, manufactured to plasticity mints. In a plastic box. That rattled....

As hand baggage, due to my role as a complete cheapskate, sans class I carry a plastic bag. That crackles.

So. The dance goes thus:

Reach to bag. Rustle, rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle.

Search inside, even though what I want is right in front of me. Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Pick up box. It needs shaking. NO, believe me ... IT NEEDS SHAKING!

Several times. Kerchink, kerchink, kerchink, kerchinkkerchinkerchinkerchinkerchinker...pop!

Out comes a mint!

But I have them 2 at a time ... !

Kerchink, kerchink, kerchink, kerchinkkerchinkerchinkerchinkerchinker...pop!

Replace box. Rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle.

Place bag on floor rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle, rustle,rustle.


Ah! Peace reigns.

But there's the plastic card in front of me....

Now laminates have a good propensity. To flex and at the end of the bend to...pop!

Hmmm. I wonder what happens next...? ;)

Flex...pop, flex...pop, flex...pop, flex...pop.

Hold on! I need some more mints!

...rustle, kerchink, et al!

And then I feel the need to look out the window, even though we're still grounded and unmoving and only about, ooh, 2 minutes have passed!

So now we have flex...pop, jigpop, flex...pop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle,kerchinkerchinkerchinker and so on.

I wonder if this is how Beethoven felt when composing...?

But there's more.

Laminates. Doubly useful. As a fan. When someone's trying to read. You can get quite a strong wind up, you know? So we have fwoo, fwoo, fwoo, fwoo as the laminate flicks air from side to side.

In time with the rhythm of my leg that just so happens to have started to jiggle ...fwoo, fwoo, fwoo and jigglejigglejigglejiggle concurrently. Sending all sorts of 'good vibrations, around the cabin, I'm sure!

Hold on! Jigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpop.

You gotta mix things up, you know?!

Ah! The pen is mightier than the sword.

I can't help it: my brain's a furnace of creativity with solar flares a-plenty (!). I need to write my thoughts down cause they're flooding me.

So I take the pen and booklet out of my bag...

And I write. As I do, it occurs to me that something I've written could form the first stanza or couplet, I'm illiterate so I don't know which, of a po-em.

So I try to work out the metre.

Tap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tap - or something.

And when you're working with rhythm...you've just got to tap out the beat, haven't you? Just to get it right...

Tap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpop

and so on.


Now, I'm happy to say I had some feedback on my performance!

The wretched hag beside me wanted some of the middle armrest. I'd taken to moving from front to back just to make it look like she was to get some and then snatch it away from her.

She took to trying forcibly to shove my arm away! Honestly! Such for English politesse!
Assertiveness training would have taught her to ask and (perhaps) put the shoe on the other foot, but I chose this as corroborative evidence of my earlier view about her cognisence of her calumny. And she din' ask, so she din' get!

She tried to catch my eye. As it bobbed 6 inches or so in front of her face (please! This is no time for smut! ...!). And I blithely, and as the "stupid man" I was, simply played her at her own game.
Seeing, but not quite seeing. Never catching that eye cast and cast again, but missing it by the breadth of civility she had displayed to me at first.

We had such a dance, the Miserable Widow and I:

flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop, flexpopTap, tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap, tapJigpop, jigpop, jigpop, rustlerustlerustle, kerchinkerchinker, flexpop, flexpop

...For one and a half hours.

And from then I knew it was going to be a good weekend.


Post script.

That'll teach ya! Bitch! (Ooh! Harsh! ...but fair). I've known the use of that "X" chromosome for some while now.

There is a quid pro quo, however. I'm sure she had a tale to tell. If there was anyone to listen...

Y'see? This is why no-one'll travel by car with me. I get excited during car journeys...