WARNING: despite the events being real, this blog may contain inaccurate, misleading and exaggerated material.
We are finally off to Cro-land!
Thanks to Cro-man’s accumulation of frequent flyer miles, we are being posh and are squeezing into the pointy end of the plane.
How different and how same/same.
The posh eat better: this is really good food. Four courses of fresh well-cooked stuff that looks and tastes exactly like food I cook myself ie broccoli that has florets of a pleasing green, rather than the pool scum blobs of economy.
The posh also get better shit in a trendy little bag. Socks and eye patch of course, but also hand stuff, cologne for ‘man’ and ‘lady’, sanitiser, tooth brush, paste and mouthwash (the posh are obviously required to have clean teeth and super-fresh breath – good to know for when I win the lottery). There was a range of other bits in tiny tubes whose writing was so small, I have no idea what goo was inside – but it smelt good, so I used them all as hand cream.
The posh get seats straight out of NASA. These babies do everything except rock you to sleep. You can turn on a very groovy massage function: I vibrated my way through 3 episodes of Veronica Mars – very satisfying.
And no blanket, but a doona! A big wad of warm comfort that led to me slapping the hostie when she made me give it back for landing.
Posh or cattle, some things will always be the same.
People: I could not believe one chap who sniffed, coughed and choked on his spittle from Perth to KL. Despite sending him death stares, he continued to splutter his way through two movies and a couple of Seinfeld eps. I could not believe a living human being could store so much phlegm in their lungs. That bloke should have drowned in his own sputum before we even left the runway!
The arrogant bastard – jeesuz in what universe is it ok for a man to swear at his wife, poke his finger at staff to show tem what he wants and insists that some-one else in the plane MUST make up his bed for him. Staring, accidentally throwing rubbish at the back of his head and very loud ‘tching’ didn’t register with the jerk. He was a plane-Nazi for the entire journey.
But the piece-de-resistance was the Lithuanian lovely who sat wrapped in crème cashmere – all six stone of her. I swear her arm nearly broke when she picked up her LV sack. She had totally amazing skin and hair and teeth (thankfully her nose was on the big side, so she wasn’t totally flawless). Despite her size, she did eat – but then she emptied her carrot basket and used up every ounce of the toothpaste and mouthwash. Of course she had her own supply of Listerine, which she pulled along on a trolley every time she went to the loo.
I was probably out of my depth at the pointy end – but it was fun, comfortable and FREE thanks to Cro-mans points.
Until next time ………..
