First sign of San Francisco…
Having taken a taxi from Charing Cross to Paddington at 5am on a Saturday morning I was privileged to see all the hardcore clubbers heading home. Lots of tartan skirts and top hats for some reason, although my favourite outfit had to be the chap wearing a tutu and Darth Vader control panel. It’s all in the details.
Anyway, got on the flight from LHR to Chicago O’Hare in my ideal seat (41C if you’re interested – it’s offset from the rest of the plane so gets double width arm rests to accommodate the tray and TV which are normally attached to the seat in front). I promptly changed my flight back to have the same seat, but more of that later…
I was sat next to the aisle. On the close side was a scowling girl in a pink and brown t-shirt warning “Beware – I had a bowl of bitch for breakfast!”. Across the aisle was an Irish girl who smiled a lot. The nearer girl may have been lovely, but why bother finding out? Anyway, the conversation was flowing until dinner when the usual tray arrived. I forget what the meal was, but it came with a foil covered cup of water. I opened the foil rather badly and the water disappeared between me and the tray. The wet feeling on the front of my trousers made me need the loo, but the big wet patch made it look like I’d left it too late, so I had to sit it out, stiltedly engaging in conversation with the Irish girl and trying to avoid squirming too badly.
For some reason the stewardess chose this moment to hit me on the back of the head.
Random Memory: Last time that happened I’d gone to see the live version of Crackerjack, and Stu ‘Ooh, I could crush a grape’ Francis slapped me on the back of the head because I was being too cool (or lazy) to sing the Agadoo song. He ran away and I retaliated by hitting him on the run with a toilet roll which just happened to be to hand from an earlier competition.
On arrival at Chicago I was greeted with the transfers hub, centered around a large McDonalds, with a smaller McDonalds branch about half way down every spur, so you’re never more than 30 seconds from the nearest burger. Despite two meals on the plane I felt obliged to have a burger.
