Away 1: Airborne

It's highly unusual to be in a plane at this time of year. I find myself in a June-mentality - though what that is escapes me.

As I write this, I'm armed with my digital camera. However, the view out my side of the plane consists of various shades of blue fading to black. Meanwhile on the other side, a vibrant red sunset is in progress. El Capitan says we're over Belfast already, which I was about guess when I finished that last sentence. WTF is 32K Feet? The European flight crew's minds have been poisoned by imperial measurements.

Belfast, Prij, 2006

Just before we launched (better than saying 'took-off'), I ignored the safety video, as usual. Oh the humanity; there's an awful American You've Been Framed style show on the fucking TVs. I began reading the safety card, lest I have to listen to the laxative accent of the American narrator of the video. That's 3 years now I've forgotten to print-off the Fight Club safety card and leave it on the plane.

Everytime something distracts me, I feel I should turn this notepad off or at least put it on standby. Oh, Computer! When will they miniaturise you? I must say, it's been a long time since I watched Road-Runner. The screens really have poor brightness control - probably DRMed. Apparently we cant buy nuts on this flight - some kid has an allergy. Since this is a stream of conscience piece, the leading attendant bears a resemblance to the only Iranian comic, Omid Djalili.

Back to detailing this trip: in an equally unusual move, we're flying from Prestwick rather than Glasgow Airport. Needless to say, freight airports (which is what Prestwick predominantly remains) don't quite cater for human cargo in the same way as an airport designed for the movement of people rather than crates. There's something on the wing! I'll take this opportunity to thank the good people at Rolls Royce; two lovely engines you've made.

It's easy to forget just how many people you've never met - indeed, it's the characters that make life interesting. Or is it when things go wrong? I saw a PHP error on one of the screens in the arrivals lounge.

The Mole People

In the arrival lounge were an impish but hardened Glaswegian couple in their early fifties (either that or alcohol ruined their go-getting 30 year old lives). The guy apparently had a very painful knee, for the woman accidentally brushed against his knee, leading him to contort his face in ultimate pain. I'm going to stereotype and say: Cigarettes don't heal gangrene.

Oh, spare me - there's an Atomic Kitten music video on, interspersed with clips of the group seeing an HIV clinic somewhere in Southern Africa. Girl-Groups seem so quintessentially 90s.

...

We moved into the departure lounge at roughly 1830 after eating dinner and a stop at the arcade, where I conquered a semi-realistic Flight-Sim made by SEGA. Well, I left this about 2 hours ago just after the in-flight meal was served and then proceeded to read Private Eye. It's just gone past midnight, which means the Padre is now 47. What can I say about the numbers 47? (This feels like a Best Man speech) Um, it was a recurring number in Star Trek since The Next Generation. I don't know what film is being shown - I think it's that new Pierce Brosnan one, Woddy Harrelson is in it (how time has ravaged him). I'm wandering whether I should go to sleep for the last hour before we arrive in Las Palmas.

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