My kick off track for this trip is slow start from a favourite of mine, Ben Folds to ease us in to the travelling mood. The MO of the blog hasn’t changed, a hand picked song from my personal archive, loosely linked to some dubious creative tomfoolery, pathetically described as a purposeful travel blog to link my memories over the years of places I have been and had fun in. A handy video always links the track to the blog to enjoy at the end….enjoy the ride!
So, let’s make a start…
The colourful adverts on the telly over the festive period, promoting sun, sea and dolphins in pristine, exclusive, all-inclusive resorts with first class travel persuaded me to enter the ‘Once in a lifetime’ mystery holiday lottery. All I had to do was text in the code ‘NTWK32’ into ‘ X ‘ to be in with a chance of winning.
Imagine my surprise when a white limousine pulled up outside and a scantily clad model climbed out of the side door, wielding a massive cardboard boarding pass, and started to walk up the garden path. I excitedly opened the front door to receive the prize and dutifully posed for the obligatory photograph to mark the occasion…..
Wow…”I’m ready for this”…I had won the dream holiday!
I borrowed a large suitcase and a small pink fanny-pack from the well traveled Darcy and Imogen, next door. Experienced travellers who had recently returned from a long Caribbean cruise. I didn’t really have enough stuff for the 36kg allowance but I spent the next few days emptying cupboards and loading it up with beachwear, flippers, teabags, donkey jacket, a lilo and several tins of Heinz beans and then sat on it until it clicked shut.
On arrival at the airport, I was taking no chances. I stood and watched in amazement as the case spun round and round on the baler machine as 25 quids worth of cling film was wound tightly round it, equating to about 4inches of added security, before I headed off to the illuminated check in barriers.
I had a feeling that the massive boarding card that I had manhandled here on the tram wouldn’t scan just as easy as a QR code on a mobile, so it wasn’t a surprise when two armed policeman showed up and helpfully escorted me to the office of the head of security to sort it out.
“It’s a crock of Grok, a scam” exclaimed the Chief Officer. “Your’e the seventh loser today that has turned up here thinking you have won a free trip”.
He laughed as he explained that it was all part of Elong Muck’s new AI chatbot ‘Grok’ that creates visual images, now by virtual telepathy,, in your head, warping your brain and includes non-consensual sexualised images that fool you into thinking it’s reality.
It turns out that when I had seen the limousine turn up, it wasn’t a limousine, it was just Mariuz, in the local DPD van and the bikini clad model I saw was just his fat grumpy Filipino bride that helps him with the deliveries. The paparazzi photograph, again, was just him taking the usual quick snap to confirm delivery and finally, the oversized cardboard boarding pass was nothing more than a small tube of grease for the bottom bracket of the Brompton that I had ordered last week from Amazon….
All this was a bloody scam…I’m gutted.
Completely disappointed, I sat down and looked sadly up at the departure screen showing all the romantic destinations I could have been jetting off to…Tel Aviv, Bogotá, Kuala Lumpur, Frankfurt, Stansted…
….Wait, I’m not going to be beat, I’m here now and I’m packed and ready to go absolutely anywhere.
Im not one to quit (irony
There are always a few seats available at the last minute so I asked for a seat on the very next flight on the runway and it didn’t matter to me where. I would be going at least ‘somewhere’ for some well deserved ‘winter sun’ after all.
I was presented with a second boarding card and directed hastily to E17 as last call was boarding in ten minutes, no time for dilly-dallying.
I plonked down my luggage at the check-in of the Lancashire airline, ‘Th’Easyjet’ and was greeted, quite gruffly, by a battle axe dressed in orange crimplene with the words “Your over-weight!!”…
The cheeky bugger, if I’d had a bit more time I’d have explained that I’m nearly 60 and have put on a bit of timber due to my over active thyroid and slow metabolism issues but then realised awkwardly that she was pointing to my suitcase.
.”Your entitled allowance for this airline ticket is cabin baggage only” she barked, shook her head and proceeded to slap on a red sticker that said ‘CAT1 - ONLY FOR DESTRUCTION’. She then smiled menacingly, and proceeded to press the button on the desk. I watched on helplessly, as 36.2 kilo’s of cling-filmed ‘Samsonite’ slowly made its way up the conveyor belt, turning left through a curtain under a sign that said ‘ICW COMPACTOR’ never to be seen again!
I grabbed my active boarding pass off her, turned sharply on my heels, with only my borrowed pink fanny-pack as hand luggage, I snaked hurriedly through security and customs, arriving at D35 just as the gate closed behind me.
Sweaty and breathless I boarded the plane last and sat down in the only vacant aisle seat a pushed my single piece of hand luggage, containing only an iPad and an old leopard-skin, licra thong, under the seat.
I’d made it…finally up in the air!
I sat back as the plane accelerated up the runway and thought to myself,
Where the hell is BELARUS anyway?
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