Thursday, September 14, 2017
Zante 2017 - Not part 1
A conversation went thus:
Me: “No”
Lisa: “Why not?”
Me: “oh I don't know, just not feeling it”
Lisa: “Why not?”
Me: “well, you know. Third time here in three years, same people, same restaurants, same shit, no one is going to be bothered by reading all that again.”
Lisa: “Why not?”
Me: “it’ll just be the same old same old. Paedo Elvis still singing in the pool, one-armed Andy still unable to serve drinks, Ronnie still having no concept of Health and Safety as he abseils down a building. It just be a boring old rehash…”
Lisa: “but what about your adoring readers?”
Me: “ah, there's no true art if it's made for an audience, as someone sagely said”
Lisa: “seriously Ian, what the fuck are you on about?”
And that’s the reason I announce, with heavy heart, that there will be no holiday blog this year.
Soz to those who may miss it…
However…
…it may just be worth mentioning a couple of things…
…such as the two girls in micro bikinis we’ve just seen. Tiny tops and g-string bottoms and any modesty they ever had protected only by a handkerchief sized piece of voile wrapped around their waists. I know I shouldn't be surprised by this on a Greek holiday but we’re still at Gatwick fucking airport for Christ sake!
And while I'm here I might as well mention the complete and utter inability of some people to count to one. Go on, try! It's really simple, and you can even hold up a finger as an easy guide to how many one is. Let's give it a quick go…
…one (holds up finger…)
…there couldn't be easier, no?
So how come we are held up the departure gate by a woman who quite clearly has two (holds up extra finger…gosh that's different from one!!! Oh Lordy lord!!!) large pieces of hand luggage? She really is struggling to understand the check in girl telling her, by indicating with a number of fingers held aloft, that this is not, in fact, one piece of hand luggage. She’s let through eventually on the understanding that she must combine two into one to board the aircraft.
Despite frenetic efforts including, but not necessarily limited to, emptying the contents of said bags on floor and trying again, jumping up and down on one of the cases and even at one point praying to god for everything to suddenly magically fit into one case, the fact remains that, unlike in certain movies you may have seen, two into one definitely won't go. During this performance her boyfriend remains stoically impassive - cap pulled down, Beats on, tunes playing - as the act plays out beside him. As we're called forward for our Speedy Boarding™ slot - which really should be renamed by EasyJet to some simpler and more accurate such as, say, Boarding - the girl’s in the process of putting on as much clothing as is physically possible wear, although figuring out how to wear six pairs of shoes is currently eluding her, much as counting to one already had.
We are then given an half hour bus ride to the deepest, darkest corner of the airport in the magnificent Globus Industries 2700 - surely the King of public transport, with its industrial opulence brilliantly designed to carry surly passengers, and their piece of luggage, in as little comfort as is humanly possible. Oh, by the way, when I said we were given a bus ride I in fact meant we were eventually given one, once they had unjammed Mrs Two Bags after she became wedged in the bus door due to the surfeit of clothing she was wearing…
As we're here perhaps a mention should be made of Angry Irishman and Long Suffering Girlfriend (AKA AIM and LSG)? It's seems from his rant, which starts pretty much as soon as he's parked his arse on he plane, that EasyJet are, and I'm quoting here, “A bunch of lying, useless cunts”, “Always out to fucking get me” and “Flying on fucking holiday my arse, stick it in your fucking hole”. This is all due to the fact we have been delay by - according to his obviously non-functioning watch been “A fucking hour already you useless fucking arses”. The delay has, in fact only been twenty minutes but perhaps he's already set his watch forward to Greek time?
Once we're aloft said useless cabin crew attempt to placate him with two Heinekens and a Kopparberg keg, following the well known tradition of what to do to calm down an AIM. When he loudly announces he’s “Never flying with you shitty bunch of losers again” LSG makes him swap seats and the whole plane breathes a sigh of relief.
Not, unfortunately, to be continued…
# posted by Bucko! @ 1:50 AM 
