Flight

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The foul hag in the seat in front had already pounded her third miniature Cabernet and was 
now making hissing noises at the cabin crew 
for a fourth. One could only feel for her 
husband, or not. He'd clearly found his own 
method to deal with her ignorance, he was 
sound asleep or at least that was how it 
appeared.


The air hosts had given up on patience and now simply stormed up and down the aisles 
screaming. This was their method of dealing 
and it often included the occasional ass barge or blatant push. 


The delirious child in 34b had moved on from 
the continuous call and was now fully 
ensconced in a high pitched wail that even 
over the drone of the four Rolls Royce engines and the volume on the latest blockbuster turned up to full, was impossible to avoid.


The seat was surprisingly spacious for economy- meaning while my knees kissed the seat in 
front, my feet had room to breath. The meal- 
some rubber derivative one might guess, 
disguised as pasta with tomato sauce, did an 
amiable job of stoppering my bowel movements 
for a good few days-something useful on long 
haul flights, but not so great later in the 
shoddy B&B you booked last minute. 


The air recycling had clearly been set to 
dehydrate by some malevolent being and my nose had reached a level of dry hitherto unknown 
in the Serengeti. I drank until my eyes 
watered and my bladder begged for mercy and 
somewhere in the last thirty minutes of the 
flight, I found solace in a sleep.
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