Ok, after being cooped up like a battery hen for 12 sodding hours on Misery Air ltd's clapped out 767 complete with droopy wings I have made it too LOS.
However the start to the journey got off with flying colours at Heathrow, when the everso happy chappy at customs took offence to the voice bringing with it a handheld food blender! 'Do you realise you are not allowed blades on a flight', he bellowed, to which my reply of 'do you know how much mess it would make shoved up your arse' did'nt really go down very well as I was ushered off to be even more thoroughly searched!
With that little episode done and dusted we set off toward Mumbai for our connecting flight. The first part of the flight passed without too much trauma and after being without sleep for the previous 48hrs I soon nodded off into dreamland.
Upon arrival in Mumbai we had an 8hr wait for our connection, which I thought would be ok. I have my laptop and phone so can pass the time ok, or so I thought. So with my cup of suspiciously unmilky latte (which I am sure the bastard robbed me for) I sat down for a little entertainment laptop style. How bloody wrong was I?
After trying to log on to the airport free wifi hotspots but refusing to give my credit card details I find myself with no connection to anything. Several expletives of an Indian nature flowed through my head, until I thought fine, I will go and spend my time in the smoking bin.
The voice was wandering around the airport trying to get some last minute bargains and I could hear it rowing with some poor unsuspecting shop attendant about only being allowed one bottle of spirits. You go girl I thought and left her to it .
In the smoking bin I made the acqaintance of a very drunk typical british package holidaymaker, who came from Birmingham. This I thought could entertain me for a while, so I struck up a (I hesitate at the word conversation) communication with him. It transpires that this is his 7th visit to LOS, and as he so politely put it he only comes to 'Fu/k the livin shit out of the dirty greasy cnuts!' Thats nice I replied! whilst thinking to myself 'Its a good job my missus didnt hear that, I think your fucking days would be over pretty rapid if she did.' So after a few hours of this banter we boarded our flight to BKK.
I sat on a remnant of laker airways old fleet (it really was that old) waiting for the other passengers to board. I had already spied 3 of the doorway seats and stated if they were free, then I was having them to the flight attendant which to my surprise she agreed too if no-one was using them.
Then he came in. The largest smelliest most uncouth person I have had the misfortune to meet. Plonks himself straight into doorway seats (which it transpires were reserved for him, as he cant fit in a normal seat) and then passes wind. What a fkn charming thing to be sat behind I thought. A bit like flying with Jabba the hut!
Straight back went the seatbacks, to be met with my of constant thumping on the backrest to get him to move it forward just a bit. He did this begrudgingly and I settled for another leg of the flight.
I was awakened from my slumber by Jabba asking if I could fill in his landing card as he cannot write in English! This I did just to get some piece and quiet and in return for moving his seat up one further notch.
We soon landed in BKK, got through the obligatory checks no problem and then just waited for our lift from the airport.
Part two to follow soon.
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