“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”

I used to travel because it was fun...
the flights, wads of tickets, business class, suits. and whisky , lounges and smoking compartments in those days..a feeling of superiority...the haves and have nots...the wines...and of course romance in the air...
no not the mile high club (and yes I am a member)..no the romance of seeing a late evening sun setting through the clouds...the closing light whilst on an airport approach....the special feeling of delight as you settle in a warm and comfortable (air namib) full lay flat bed with eiderdown cover...after the whisky  and meal..knowing all is well.............

Seriously, i´ve well over a million miles.............done it and seen it............

but doing what....and why....making multi´s richer....so somewhere at 23,000ft I decided to use the game to do some good....losing my father and my family in the process....

I was a middle child.....let my brother do the role leading, matching up tp expectancies and watching the younger one fail at just that,,,the sister that came later I never really knew..

Social, well meaning, moderate, forgiving, was the summary my mother would later give of me...
...socialist, was my fathers opinion..student..the world isn´t fair...he would tone as I told him of the worries of others in far off lands like ..wherever...

I was a BEEB boy, no ATV for me...conservative, blue tie surroundings..and all so wrong..expectancies of suburbian life....and actually and really...a hammer, and saw would have suited me better...solid work, clean work....and 300 quid on the side and a Jag....I saw enough of it all around...

but to have dissapointed the role my mother wanted (Dentist)..and the success of his own failures (dad) led me onto a sort of studying..POLY it was called in those days as due to self pity and sheer inability a-levels were a thing I could attain...managed a OND followed by a HND and finally released...

went to Saudi Arabia.....(stupidly I thought thats where Awrence was filmed...turned out to be Jordan...went there later to to the WADI...fucking marvellous...)---and got a taste of a few things----

money, self made alchohol, old sweats, biggets fucking spiders I´ve ever seen. and pathetic injustice....

whites (europeans) in a/c huts, and asians in shitty housing...on site accomodations and penal servitude...

....it was an eye opener......

6 weeks later I was in Europe creating my daughter.....with a lovely bombshell blond thing...who I later divorced...or she me..whatever..

so now infected by the bigger open world. and anchored to a darling little creature (not the ex wife)...I began my elastic band travels around the world...

sometimes makes you wonder....

a blogger brother led me into this...making the odd commentary about flying, my major pastime..as a way to alleviate the stress contained in this life I lead...

I promised him, after a few whisky evenings entertaining the crowd with stories and anecdotes about the life of a perpetual traveller and Margeaux drinker, to put pen to paper, or rather finger to keypad to tell a few of the stories I had experienced...

i´ve tried, really...but its all  a wash of those classic like "not so funny when it happened", 80 minutes in KL and all those other little paperbacks parked up in the bookstore at the crossroads of international flights..the international airport of your choice in the world today....Glass and steel palaces designed by gods of image in Chicago and Milan...all the same and practical.

I even tried to put to paper or screen all the images, fixed in my brain of the people seen, the scenes of separating, meeting, laughing, meeting, fighting, worrying, happy couples, families, lovers, travellers and the lost.

Recalled all the stress situations, the adreneline, the worried moments, anxiety caused by missed or nearly missed flights, the pleasures of upgrades, and the near romances, the interesting talks, the short relationships, and those that became life long friends....

but in retrospect...i´ve spent half of my professional life in a plane, or hotel room serving the needs of a unwanting, non-thankful multi who would send deepest regrets should my life end in cardiac between gate 4 and 5.

.............so I´ve decided that a blog, even if funny depicting this life..is surely not what the world truly needs on top...

During the travels, I evolved from a pure juvenile..to a worried world participator in the troubles that surrounded me in those countries I travelled to...my head filled with images of things seen and experienced
which may or may not make for a better blog!

its your call.............my true three followers...silly anecdotes..or a shot of reality..?

The luck of the Irish

....so this time I did it ! ..a budget flight..Irish no less..no not Airlingus or some other sexual connection..
worse Ryan air....
Bejesus !, what a process...just to get the flight booked !...its a mine field...click on the wrong button, or sequence and you end up paying quadrillions for baggage, insurance to cover the entire passenger list of the Titanic, seating arrangements for an Indian wedding and the wake afterwards…
So armed with my boarding card and the VERY clear instructions that should I appear at the airport with anything else in baggage other than booked I will pay the national debt of Somalia for the next three years as a fine, I cheerfully approach my local Ryanair ex-airforce base.
Surprisingly the little lady is pleasant as she tells me I have “priority boarding” and to go straight through….to the waiting line, in the waiting collection area, sub-divided into those “who have” and those “who don´t”, in the communal waiting room.
After seeing the brake smoke of the landing plane, we are “ordered to gather…passports open, tickets in hand for the 13;30 pm dash at Braintree…..its 60m across the tarmac…
…those that have are let off the leash first….elbows and expressly checked (dimensions & weight) carry-on baggage flapping in the driven snow!!....only to find the steps are still being dragged into place…
Wet and “priveliged” I slip into 2 F only to find that my on board luggage has no place above my seat and cannot be placed at my feet !...it disappears backwards…oh woe…I can imagine what happens when we land …
Seats built for the legless, non-tippable—succulent blue leather slippery and worn through!
Well its only for an hour and half they promise…doors close..middle seat takers dawdling and being hurried by Polish and Spanish speakers barking commands to SIT…and we are off….
Levelling out drinks at Ascot prices, and A5 greasy spoon tastes are quickly dispensed…asked all three 2D , E and F managed in unison to move their legs from left to right!.with those polite excuse me smiles !
…a fanfare rouses us all to inform us that …yes Ryanair has done it again, arrived on time that is…and not a moment too soon..anticipation rises..freedom…arrival and disembarkation…talk about the last helicopter leaving Saigon..but in reverse ! Sinking ship comes to mind !..
No ladies and gentlemen…if at all finances allow….TAP…no not the Portugese National airlines…but sound advice….
Take Another Plane !

Ladies and Gentlemen...

........we are currently experiencing turbulence please return to your seats and tighten your seat belts.....

Why does that always happen just when I finally get that cup of coffee I´ve been so waiting for, only to see it slop over the sides into the saucer destroying that little paper napkin, and worse my shortbread biscuits!

Is it a normal phenomina that turbulence starts approximately 1 hour into the flight when food is being delivered...a bit like the announcements that pop in just when you are about to find out who killed who in the in flight film...

I suppose its because we are all now routined, and enjoy the routine...so when that announcement comes through !, well we sigh ! and click annoyed with our tongues at the inconvenience.....and wait for the roller coasting to stop, hoping to retain a clean jacket, shirt , tie and heaven forbid trousers !





 

dont be silly young man

recently I  met her during a routine security check....

The respectable representative of the great British institution...W.I or Women´s Institute.
Tweeded, brown shod, (sensible), small tidy and neat handbag, be-hatted, and well equipped with a seniority brooch affixed as per general rule whatever on the right hand lapel....

"you would like me to do what" ..she exclaimed..drawing my attention.

I assumed that she had been asked to show her collection of private, creams and soaps and such like to a Gulag officer, to determine it passing into a one liter plastic bag.

Or maybe to raise her arms to height deemed both unpractical and un-ladylike for a flagship of her dignity!

Or worse still to place a non-existent Laptop in a tray...but no...

Attlia, demanded that she should remove her shoes!.....

the resounding exclamation of "don´t be silly young man" reverberated through the security area, followed by a resolutely determined madam sailing forth !....

We, mere mortals...followed meekly. shoeless, beltless and very much in awe....
 

you know that feeling when you hear...

"all doors in flight and cross check".....right!, lively now dart across and get that free seat you´ve been eyeing since you sat down next to jumbo in 19B...its like a game...you know you can´t move till the green lights on...you watch and wait for that magical announcement...of course yore stuffed if you made the mistake of going F on a day flight...you are doomed !...no seat chequers for you tonite....

"gentlemen start your engines."

..check out the others on the grid...14B still messing around with his belt, 14A eyes shifting, edgy on his seat...bugger he is three rows nearer than you...of course you could ruin the game by...please miss may I move to that free seat please ?....but thats the whimps way out !

Now you´re ready, checked the approach, silently going through the body check motions, slip and slide past, just as the last vibrations of the tannoi echo through the cabin..before the inane..."this aircraft is equipped with 6 emergency exits."...flight instructions for non-initiated!, anyoe worth his salt can tell you the layout of an airbus A300 stretch in his sleep.

all doors in flight...and before the cabin crew can thumbs up ....youre in, grabbing that extra cushion on the way..straight into...no..not what you think...window seat...nor the aisle...but the middle seat,,,6B....Yes, Yes...guess who is getting his head down on this two hour hop ! no one would want to join you why ?..what would be the point.......B´stard you hear him hiss...you can read his mind..."if he would take either the A or C but no B....little does he know you´ve planned it.

(tip: feel behind the arms there is a small clip release and the arms fold right up..push the seat belts under the seat cushions...shoes off, tie loose, window blinds down and...all doors in flight..

now wouldn´t that be perfect !,,as a kid I always thought, "how the hell do they lift off...and in the case of Thunderbirds ..nah never get off the ramp!

„Would you mind listening to the end of this gentleman’s story“

You all know him,..the chap, preferably on a night flight, with you in your favourite 6F sleeping seat, who has to tell you his life´s story.. as if you care, but polite as you are you keep him amused before, during and after dinner.

To be fair, I´ve met some really astounding people on planes, rarely afterwards though, as most , pleased as they are to force their contact details on you,  do not exist in after flight life….leading to a belief that some have visiting cards that are pure dummies, allowing them to have a interesting, exciting life of their own as long as they are flying without the fear of being “caught” once those wheels hit mother earth…

But back to our jailor passenger, whose occasional flashes of silence make his conversation perfectly delightful, and his tales of success, grandeur and acquaintances’, which according to his list would make anyone proud, and that from a travelling mid level manager for somewhere out west…you suffer…and wonder how on earth you can shut him up…when inspiration strikes….

Calling over the airflightattendantperson you calmly ask, whilst legging over the chatty chap sitting next to you on the pretence of heading for heads,…..or what ever is the true air nautical word for the tiny cabin in which one relieves oneself from both these passengers and the port wine….you utter the most famous of expressions..hailing from a member at a London club if I recall!..

„Would you mind listening to the end of this gentleman’s story“

Getting an upgrade…..is really quite simple…starts with your FF card registration.

Most of the newly wedded flyers applying to be a junior FF are of course both honest, and have too much pride…they are after all Managers….regional, area, specific or otherwise…that’s why they are allowed to fly business in the first place.

So off they go and fill out the forms…Occupation: MANAGER…smirking and smiling they don’t realise they have just committed the ultimate failure…doomed to never upgrade unless they have played the points game….collecting bravely, suffering all those long flights to go from blue to silver to GOLD, before they have enough miles to actually waste on taking an UPGRADE…for what?..they are already flying business thanks to their bosses´ generosity.

Do they use up all that hard earned miles to up to First…three years of suffering to fly one stretch in First, and then what happens…as it is a day flight…..and under 6 hrs…the airline uses the oldest planes which are due to be flogged off as first rate equipment to those states that believe having an ex-european run and maintained plane will enrich their fleet with at least one in which the seats recline, lights work and the toilets aren´t stuffed.

And our luckless FF…lands up in the front row of what is now First, yet was business, and has used up all his well, hard earned miles to get there, sadly to see that the seats are the same only leather (slippy, sodding, things) and the service mildly nicer, flower holder on wall, and two glasses of champers before TO, yet otherwise the same…..ah what a disappointment ..now if he had listened to daddy…

When filling out the form…I filled in neatly and with no bad conscience whatever…security advisor..or Fireman…policeman..even  survival trainer….why ? you may ask,, why demote yourself! For gods sake man, that suit cost a fortune, you are a MANAGER for gods sake…yes and that why you get B or E seats on short hauls when you boss refuses the elite business class….

You see…if you can´t get upgraded then you want to secure that most limited of commodities

on any flight…leg room. So by entering security, fireman, police…you’ve indicated you are stress resistant, know how to react in an emergency etc…(you should really feel suitable before you do this lives are at stake)..and guaranteed a midget would get an emergency exit seat….

A million miles on your account and a two pm flight gets you an upgrade to First from Business in real airlines like Emirates, Gulf and the like. Only DEATH on Lufthansa gets a bed like travel arrangement as an upgrade!…..although a body bag in the toilet has been known as usual ! no matter in which class you originally entered the plane….

Well dressed at check in on an afternoon flight also has worked if they are not overbooked and you have reached gold class…

And asking for the station manager, or have the luck to be recognised by the duty manager!,

But, all in all. An upgrade to first is after all! better than the captains seat….at least you can sleep and drink whilst travelling ..he can´t. …..Smile…

in the meantime

in the meantime nigh on 15 years have passed and I am 52, seasoned, weary and still travelling. Middle East now, Africa and the deserts of Dubai are the new haunting grounds. Email has taken over fax, mobiles and sms are my life, and the speed is on.

Gone are the days of casual travel, suits and ties, stopovers, business lunches and the like.

Now I am a secretary, a word processor,  an excel sheet manipulator, PBIT charged exec, armed with I-Phone, I-Pad, I-Plane, and a ton of useless ballast which I am supposed to need but never do...

Although "up the air" God bless him..taught me the final touches needed to cut the hand-, and may I say only luggage, down to 7kg....even the laptop weighs under a loaf of bread. Slip on shoes, quick release belts, min. size wash kit, and less metal than a piece of tinsel, and I am through the security like....greased....ah! no... there is always one isn´t there.

Millions of miles and the corresponding "lovely Jubly...would you like to rib my tits Amex/Visa card combination" means I can while away my preceeding hours/minutes before a flight in the sound knowledge that within these hallowed walls of the "lounge" I am distinctly separate from the great unwashed...

That is of course...until I get to that totally unecessary final security check before the gate. All those who entered the airport, no even planned their trip and dared to read the fine print about, metal, drinks, watches, shoes, laptops,glasses, and anything that looks like causing a Deltaforce Agent to have a hiccup, has decided NOW, 30 feet from the plane to festoon his body with such like items.

Agonisingly slow, we watch the mini drama´s of the loss of ..yes 101ml of Down the Canal N°5 BEING CONFISCATED....tears of agongy, but why, its half empty....(its the container size not the contents etc. etc.)...oh god!...

Finally after gay gordon has felt my balls, I am allowed to proceed to sanctuary, thats is if I am flying Emirates ! Heaven between the real one and earth, or stalag 42 if Lufthansa and all those in between who mean well but! sigh!...

Once cushioned, separated by a serge curtain, dark in colour I can slip into my travel mode.

Check the reds, the films, and the service in that order! All entertaining but serious if I am to enjoy the next 6-9 hrs. You know the menu, its either or or both of a combination of fish, chicken and meat, mostly Halal, ..wont see a bacon rasher for miles...nicely disguised using either french names for fry, grill or cook, and decorated to look like a spilled packet of liquorice allsorts.

Mildly amused I watch the pillow takers...there are three types, the business class knows all he has to do is ask..and he shall be given (unless in LH where you will be curtely told that she has other things to do such as kick start the plane...and will bring you one later ..if she doesent forget..or have to change the oil in the hydraulics..)...
those lucky enough, rich enough or clever enough (see "How to get an upgrade") to be FIRST CLASS, well they only have to imagine the sublime pleasure of an extra pillow and  a mild mannered, delightfully sweet, attractive, nymph, impeccably dressed slides a down filled, silk covered cloud under your head, patting it for good measure.(it has been known on some airlines to be accompanied by the final kiss a lover gives before turning to sleep a contented sleep.)

and then there is the crafty, swifty smooth FREQUENT FLYER...who knows..yes he is aislewise.. a mover, dodger and diver, W.N.A.D online booking specialist.
(Window at Night, Aisle on DAY flights), guaranteed sleep at night, no incontinent disturbances, and first off the flight during the day, albeit slightly more difficult if settled over the wings, equi-distant to both front and back doors.

.....he knows he needs those three extra mini cushions plus the one on his seat. Left and right hip (bloody buckles), and one to cut out that incessant downward blizzard from the A/C. So deftly slipping past the ticket checker (the fouth by now) who tries to push 400 people into a tube corridor, with no A/C to wait a miserable final twenty minutes, whilst others are being seated, traversing back UP the aisle with a monster bag, because he cannot count and has missed 21 D...oh by the way, the alphabet has been the same since the bloody thing was written  in 4000 BC in Byblos Lebanon, so yes its..... ABCDEFG across the plane, in that order!

the FF has sussed that one years ago!..so off he shoots through the business class tube..the bolder, and older use the FC route, knicking whatever glossies they can en-route, or those fantastic night bags, which would make an Elisabeth Arden shop look peeky!..and grabs the soft fluffies on his way through!....finally enjoying the shocked look of the GUW , with whom he is forced to stay these meagre hours because of a new ruling ..under three hours flights no business..the shame of it...as he settles into his body cut slim line non -reclining seat , as he is not going to get the free red, and irish slumber water anyway, he can conceed on trying the glut attached to a plastic plate , washed down with plastic liquids aptly named orange juice or coffee..for a well earned few hours of shut eye....before we all reach our next airport destination to enjoy the pleasures of ARIVALS and CUSTOMS.

next week...how to obtain an upgrade.....!!!

logic...

25 years of loving it……the sights the sounds and the places seen and experienced…..the fun and the weariness of it all. A quid for every flight or air mile (didn´t exist when I started).

The funny things that happened…the strangest sights, the behaviour of others, the people you meet, and the stories they tell..

Working for German companies who treated me well (Business Class) has enabled me to see the world at their expense, and believe me I have seen the world……

24 major countries left to visit excluding the wastes that form the top and bottom of this planet. I have been to every class of 4 star available from US to Asian and even Arabia…..

an expert on Hotels…Thomas Cook should employ me to write reviews..

It all started with an army joke……anyone like  music…yes sarge!… well move that bloody piano ……

My boss a apper German Berliner walked in and said….do you know where Toronto Canada is…yes it up an left a bit of New York….good you are on the two fifteen from Frankfurt  …go home a pack.

It was eight thirty on a Tuesday morning…twenty minutes later 15,000 US in my pocket I was off to the airport (MD´s had credit cards those days).

Seem we had delivered German engineered rubbish to a client in the Canadian back world and thought we could get away with it…joiks!

The Mounties thought different they knew the difference between French rubbish and the German !

So off I was to explain…..it is the German thing you know to explain ! anything goes wrong …I can explain !

It´s not our fault !, I can explain (Nuernberg all over again).

One lovely Swissair flight via Zurich later I arrived in the big Apple…A logical Air Canada to Toronto didn´t fit into German logic…you went west you flew to NY first !...Brilliant

US customs had a bloody field day with my passport…remember Lybian built I is…!!!

Siiir, you were born in Libya ?...yes….Why ?...have to ask mummy that one !...two hours later ( no sense of humour ) I´ve missed my connection to Toronto in Enuitland.

Air Canada have offered to put me up with the Stewardesses !....could not believe my ears!

So off we go to a lovely little home spun , gentile run hotel called “Holiday Inn”. Sound small and sweet.

I believe every story I have ever heard about pilots and stewardesses, then and now…they are true..!

becoming an "in betweener"

it was my father´s doing...he was a soldier in the british army stationed in Northern Africa.
free time, hot weather and rest is history.....born late in the afternoon of a hot June in 1960 I came into the world of the army barracks,  and there familiar accomodations.

Although we spent the first year in Africa, Libya to be precise, we soon got used to moving from one place to the another, a new school , a new posting, the boxes never really unpacked in the spare room, long nights in the back of cars, crossing the channel between  the UK and BFPO....but always comfortingly similar... Army !...the instilled traveller instinct was never broken.

Now 25 years + onward I have become an "in betweener"....living in two worlds...one the home base, secure, a place to rest and the other....the ever changing world of the traveller... it was Holiday Inns and Sheratons that took up the line of familiarity......