Up, up, and going away…again
Gutted in seat 26J of UA938 would like to report he has been some what of a fucking twat. He was meant to pack in his laptop bag for this flight a CDR/DVD drive so he could watch either of the kung fu films that he chose to bring along on this trip to the home of the cubs, bulls, bears and white socks. Unfortunately I decided that the CDR/DVD drive I brought with me for the laptop I am currently travelling with would be better safely tucked in a flight case awaiting shipment to Washington DC for next weeks conference. Meanwhile I am somewhere over the Atlantic ocean struggling to keep abreast of my fingers as I type up what has been an eventful if not rock n roll few days. Since that is my only option at this removable media deprived time. We shall start with the statistics. Time: my watch says 1am, don’t believe the lies; it is in a corrupted time zone. Altitude: 10972m (36,000ft), Distance travelled: 3192km, Tail wind: 31mph, Time at destination: 7am, Ground speed: 507mph, Outside air temp: -53OC, Time since departure: 3:30, Distance travelled 3272KM. In short somewhere off the southerly tip of Greenland and feeling like taking a few wickets in the cricket match I shall definitely make it home for.
I just realised this shit is going straight on my blog as soon as I have access to the outside world of the internet, which, alas, premium economy does not afford me. I’ve paid out £20 over the last 4 days for gin on aeroplanes, I’m currently sat in a window seat with a laptop running on dual battery power, which although good for writing incessantly, it brings disappointment in so far as I would rather be doing anything other than that which I do best, i.e. give me bad kung fu films over knocking out the novels, whatever time zone I happen to be in. The guy in the aisle seat next to me is asleep under one of the blankets they give you, he didn’t pay out for the gin like I did, in fact I think I am the only person below business and first class to realise the benefit that booze affords you on long haul flights. Still it makes you need to urinate incessantly which is never good a good thing when confined to an enclosed window seat, such is that where I currently reside. Luckily it becomes less of a problem when you have done nothing but watch incredulous action movies for 3 hours and you can subsequently bound yards in milliseconds without waking those beneath your leaps; as has just been proven.
That which I drank at the airport consisting of rum and gin, helped me through take off, in that I remember and was conscience for push back, but as far as take off goes I just remember the thrust of the engines and thinking, “Yep we’re up”. Throughout take off my MP3 player had been secretly tucked in action, one headphone secreted into an ear pressed against a provided pillow, which was in turn pressed up against the side of the aircraft. The lead from the solitary head phone draped down inside my t-shirt and connected to the player in my pocket; in complete disrespect of airline rules which determine that any electronic device should be switched off during take off and for at least 10mins after. Still that is not the worst of my transgressions; much worse is the two packets of matches I have secreted in my hand luggage, which as I was told a thousand times must not contain anything. On the way out I was bright enough to realise that if I needed to smoke something upon immediate exit from the airport, as all should, it’s best to put lighting materials in checked in luggage. However, that level of mental faculty let alone the matches I had on the way out were certainly not present for the journey home; the matches having been saturated by a thunderstorm I got myself caught up in. Instead I just stuck two books of matches from the hotel in my carry on bags, more as an act of insubordination rather than a test of security. Apparently it’s not that full proof, still that’s no reason to set fire to a vehicle carrying 250 people at 11000m at 500mph. Though there is a lot to be said for the battery 8.5 hours remaining and I could be typing when the aircraft re embarks for wherever it goes from Heathrow, but I think I’ll sleep until landing, then jump in a taxi home. Until the next flight…
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Pampered of seat 60k on BA217 would like to report that in the last five days my experience of air travel has varied as widely and greatly as that of the leaves in the garnish that accompanied the salad I had for starter. Residing on the upper deck of this 747, it seems in the air at least – the class system is alive, healthy and as discriminatory as ever – and why should it not be?! I have no reason for my surprise upgrade other than the glint in my eyes, frequent travel and company paid ticket – I am not wearing a suit – although, as always, I was carrying a laptop! There is many a seat available in the business section; it seems strange to be sat in the lap of luxury having so recently felt the full restrictions of economy – or even premium economy class but should I in the name of my politics turndown the offer? The flowing and free gin and tonics would suggest nay. Despite the guilt and loss of political integrity I take on these rewards of luxury more as a pre-requisite to travel rather than an undeserved over indulgence. It is something I have become accustomed to, not necessarily deserving of, but as I remarked in my journal earlier I work hard and am rarely rewarded for it. That journal entry having been made sat in the airport bar prior to boarding the aircraft, it should be noted my presence there was due to the fact that while my upgrade afforded me the leisure of ‘fast-track’ through security and boarding, it did not give the much sought after access to the airport lounge, where true decadence and inebriation begin. Thus I was with the minions and masses prior to boarding and as I also remarked in handwritten scrawl, in these poor last few days before payday it was nice to feel the pain of a bulging belly as I tucked into my expenses paid breakfast with in the smoking section. My stomach has swelled further since then, had I been required to select a dessert from the in flight menu I probably would have foregone the chance, as it was, I declined the offer of it when it came by on the trolley. The first two courses of my in-flight culinary experience would normally be sufficient to keep me going for in excess of 24 hours. But this is taking full advantage of that which is on offer, as one should with unexpected upgrades.
It had all been mentally projected so differently, starved of sleep I would be hunched in economy watching a film, clambering for booze until my eyes closed for as long as possible and I could escape to the relative peace of in-flight rest. But now with the confused clock telling me its early afternoon and the gin telling me to write; sleep seems a strange prospect and the horrendous selection of cinematic entertainment merely a distraction from the commentary of my life – which I, perhaps alone, hold so dear. I think its right that the work of any author is worthless before his 30th birthday, yet I would say at the tender age of 27 this, for me, has come and gone. May be at 25 my writing was immature, limited and lacking direction or life experience, now I feel 50, wizened, crafted and astute. I might as well be published, knocking out my next novel or serialisation on this plane, my fingers prancing over the laptop keyboard. Instead I sit here on the verge of sending my first work off to prospective agents, publishers and editors this coming Monday. My shit is good – that much I know – but who do I send it to – and why should they be so fortunate to have first refusal of my work. Perhaps it’s the gin or the business class seat, but I don’t know how many of those privileged enough to live in these civilised heights have either the inclination or the vocabulary to describe it. I wish I could say this is written for the man on the opposite side of the screen from my backward facing airline seat, but it is for the eyes and minds of the future. Contemporary literature leaves me bored if not sleeping, though just as words from the past fascinate me, I would hope writing from this day and age would absorb those of the future. Such it is to live in times of great change; almost everything in my daily life is unrecognisable to those of perhaps 3 genuine generations ago. This is a button activated world and why it may not be important to know which buttons to press it is important to realise that sometimes it best to conceive of reality before you put it into words – in this task alone, here I have failed. But that is not to say I can not express that with the same eloquence as the point I was trying to make. The lack of sleep and the gin is taking hold it’s time to do the custom forms and then sleep for an hour or 3.
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61F of BA292 is back in economy and ready to explode. Or at least I had been, I was forced to move forward into the empty carriage of world traveller plus to type this, there was simply no room back there either to write or explode. I can count perhaps six people in the 5 rows of 8 higher comfort seats on this side of the dividing curtain. I had to make a break for it; I had started to make gnashing noises at the guys sat in the seats in front of me, both of them in fully reclined positions. Having already scraped the contents from my nose and deposited it on his hair and continually kicked the back of his chair for 5 minutes it was time to escape the stress. I said ‘guys’ in front because I was actually lucky enough to have a spare seat next to me, the tray table of which I was using to rest my laptop on after the person directly in front of me crushed the screen into my face as he reclined, but then as the other guy, or perhaps moron is a more acceptable term, also reclined, my laptop was forced to a 45o angle making it somewhat difficult to type and see the screen. It is ridiculous that when you only have 12inches of space between you and the person behind, you should be able to oppress them further by reclining the chair, leaving about 6inches between back of head and nose. I also saw someone on the other side of the aisle in a similar predicament, although much larger than me they were unable to even make it from their seat to the bathroom because of the recliner in front. These are the selfish people of the world and economy class highlights the effect they have on simple living folk. Even though I only had a minute elderly Japanese lady in the seat behind me, I would never think to press that button and move myself towards her, even though she was fast asleep. Luckily for me, just as I was starting to think my behaviour was irrational and the effect of being spoilt by my recent business class experience I looked over to see the man in front was actually reading the Da Vinci code, this is after it has been and gone from the cinema, so I knew I was right, he too was a moron. If that bloody book should go on to become a classic of my generation and my work remains unpublished, I’ll perhaps rethink matters – but for the time being – I would assert I am just and he is a fucking prick.
However, it is noted that the oppression, anger and stress that has cursed through my veins since checking in and realising I was restricted to the economy cabin might be due to me having become accustomed to travelling at a higher class. Yet I would assert karma has treated me badly today. It can’t of course treat people badly, it is what it is - and it is us with our conditioned perceptions that make it into a good or bad thing. I suppose in this instance I feel hard done by because I recently carried out one of my greatest selfless acts, again this is all confined by perception and conditioning. As I left the hotel in the USA’s capital the morning before last (depending on your time zone) I witnessed a magnificent site that set a broad grin across my face. A Krispee Kreme delivery driver was doing his rounds and had stopped outside an office block; from the back of his van he loaded up another guy with arms outstretched with tray after tray of doughnuts, it was a joy to stare at from across the street and I did. As the delivery driver was just shutting the doors to the van he looked across and saw me – stopped dead in my tracks. “You’ve got the best fucking job in the world, man” I exclaimed at him. Then, with an action that will confuse me until I leave for the bright white light of death, he took a box of doughnuts out and held them in my direction. “You want some?” he yelled at me, then burst into laughter probably upon seeing my eyes bulge as I stepped into the road and began to cross regardless of on coming traffic. “Wow, you sure?” I asked as I got nearer, “Yeah, my man, no worries” he replied. I was stunned and stood shaking my head as I took the box of 6 raspberry filled glazed doughnuts from him. “That’s amazing, so kind” were about the only words to drip from my amazed face. He followed up my mumblings by shocking me further, “You want some more?” Glancing into the back of the van and seeing it packed high with shelf after shelf and box after box of doughnuts my reserved Englishness took over, “Nah, I can’t do that, man”, I must have sounded sad and shook my head he was taken a back as he said “Why not?” There was no logical reason; this was the be all and end all of sugared snacks, the like of which in the UK are reserved for special occasions, being offered to me for free. Yet, reasoning was required and I managed to say “I got a long way to walk, I can’t carry anymore – or I’d take everything you could give me”, he smiled as we shook hands. “Ok man, well you enjoy and take it easy” he said fastening his van doors. “Yeah, you too and like I said – best fucking job in the world man!” Laughing we went our separate ways, hopefully each feeling an added spring to our step. I know I did as I headed off to the Jefferson Memorial, doughnuts in hand.
Moments later he drove by and honked (as he would no doubt say) at me and I waved furiously. “God bless America” It’s the first time I’ve ever said those words without a hint of jest and they came to me before I had a chance to realise what I was saying. Striding down the concrete sidewalk I thought of the permutations of the situation, what he thought of me and how it had come to be. “Probably his first and last day on the job” I imagined, “just driving round handing out doughnuts to people!” Just then as I was, for a change, admiring the land of the free, rather than bemoaning it, the reality of the place hit me - as it always does. Crossing under a bridge I saw and smelled the dwellings of a homeless person. There was a makeshift mattress to the side of the pavement with a threadbare blanket, some bags of trash (as he would call it), a pile of newspapers, and even some torn books. This was advanced vagrancy, the guy had obviously been there sometime, with a smile I placed the doughnuts, none too carefully, on the pile of books, knocking a couple off the pile. I hoped it would be a nice present to come home to, that is if he had one. It was a selfless act, especially taking into account my love for the doughnuts, but I’d had a $20 breakfast at a 5star hotel that morning, I didn’t need them. As I walked on…
Apologies - my sentence was just interrupted by a member of the cabin crew asking me, none too politely, to return to my original seat, they are the policewomen of the sky, engrossed in their power trips. I am now back behind the recliners, my laptop forced upon me with my elbows raised and extended as I struggle to type. Get to the back of the bus, – it seems the karma and class train rolls on in the skies of our world.
…. I realised there in lies the problem with America and its people, they love what they have, are thankful for it and proud of their achievements but it is a vast place and there are many without the trappings of the dream like lifestyle they aspire to. Furthermore, not often enough do those share the dream with those who can’t afford it. I guess it’s the same everywhere, but in the US it’s more noticeable because of the outlandish divides between rich and poor. There are, in short, enough doughnuts to go round, you just have to buy your own and pass on the free ones to those that can’t afford them.
Karma it seems didn’t care for my selfless act which I thought would at least get me an upgrade to business. But as a forceful ejection from the next cabin has proved – sometimes there is no pleasing that which is unaware. Oh well, it’s an hour and half until landing, best try to get some sleep, or at least mediate for a bit. I remembered the CDR\DVD drive this time, but I can’t see the screen on my laptop to put it to use, may be I’ll watch it at home and try to avoid long haul flights for a while.
I just realised this shit is going straight on my blog as soon as I have access to the outside world of the internet, which, alas, premium economy does not afford me. I’ve paid out £20 over the last 4 days for gin on aeroplanes, I’m currently sat in a window seat with a laptop running on dual battery power, which although good for writing incessantly, it brings disappointment in so far as I would rather be doing anything other than that which I do best, i.e. give me bad kung fu films over knocking out the novels, whatever time zone I happen to be in. The guy in the aisle seat next to me is asleep under one of the blankets they give you, he didn’t pay out for the gin like I did, in fact I think I am the only person below business and first class to realise the benefit that booze affords you on long haul flights. Still it makes you need to urinate incessantly which is never good a good thing when confined to an enclosed window seat, such is that where I currently reside. Luckily it becomes less of a problem when you have done nothing but watch incredulous action movies for 3 hours and you can subsequently bound yards in milliseconds without waking those beneath your leaps; as has just been proven.
That which I drank at the airport consisting of rum and gin, helped me through take off, in that I remember and was conscience for push back, but as far as take off goes I just remember the thrust of the engines and thinking, “Yep we’re up”. Throughout take off my MP3 player had been secretly tucked in action, one headphone secreted into an ear pressed against a provided pillow, which was in turn pressed up against the side of the aircraft. The lead from the solitary head phone draped down inside my t-shirt and connected to the player in my pocket; in complete disrespect of airline rules which determine that any electronic device should be switched off during take off and for at least 10mins after. Still that is not the worst of my transgressions; much worse is the two packets of matches I have secreted in my hand luggage, which as I was told a thousand times must not contain anything. On the way out I was bright enough to realise that if I needed to smoke something upon immediate exit from the airport, as all should, it’s best to put lighting materials in checked in luggage. However, that level of mental faculty let alone the matches I had on the way out were certainly not present for the journey home; the matches having been saturated by a thunderstorm I got myself caught up in. Instead I just stuck two books of matches from the hotel in my carry on bags, more as an act of insubordination rather than a test of security. Apparently it’s not that full proof, still that’s no reason to set fire to a vehicle carrying 250 people at 11000m at 500mph. Though there is a lot to be said for the battery 8.5 hours remaining and I could be typing when the aircraft re embarks for wherever it goes from Heathrow, but I think I’ll sleep until landing, then jump in a taxi home. Until the next flight…
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Pampered of seat 60k on BA217 would like to report that in the last five days my experience of air travel has varied as widely and greatly as that of the leaves in the garnish that accompanied the salad I had for starter. Residing on the upper deck of this 747, it seems in the air at least – the class system is alive, healthy and as discriminatory as ever – and why should it not be?! I have no reason for my surprise upgrade other than the glint in my eyes, frequent travel and company paid ticket – I am not wearing a suit – although, as always, I was carrying a laptop! There is many a seat available in the business section; it seems strange to be sat in the lap of luxury having so recently felt the full restrictions of economy – or even premium economy class but should I in the name of my politics turndown the offer? The flowing and free gin and tonics would suggest nay. Despite the guilt and loss of political integrity I take on these rewards of luxury more as a pre-requisite to travel rather than an undeserved over indulgence. It is something I have become accustomed to, not necessarily deserving of, but as I remarked in my journal earlier I work hard and am rarely rewarded for it. That journal entry having been made sat in the airport bar prior to boarding the aircraft, it should be noted my presence there was due to the fact that while my upgrade afforded me the leisure of ‘fast-track’ through security and boarding, it did not give the much sought after access to the airport lounge, where true decadence and inebriation begin. Thus I was with the minions and masses prior to boarding and as I also remarked in handwritten scrawl, in these poor last few days before payday it was nice to feel the pain of a bulging belly as I tucked into my expenses paid breakfast with in the smoking section. My stomach has swelled further since then, had I been required to select a dessert from the in flight menu I probably would have foregone the chance, as it was, I declined the offer of it when it came by on the trolley. The first two courses of my in-flight culinary experience would normally be sufficient to keep me going for in excess of 24 hours. But this is taking full advantage of that which is on offer, as one should with unexpected upgrades.
It had all been mentally projected so differently, starved of sleep I would be hunched in economy watching a film, clambering for booze until my eyes closed for as long as possible and I could escape to the relative peace of in-flight rest. But now with the confused clock telling me its early afternoon and the gin telling me to write; sleep seems a strange prospect and the horrendous selection of cinematic entertainment merely a distraction from the commentary of my life – which I, perhaps alone, hold so dear. I think its right that the work of any author is worthless before his 30th birthday, yet I would say at the tender age of 27 this, for me, has come and gone. May be at 25 my writing was immature, limited and lacking direction or life experience, now I feel 50, wizened, crafted and astute. I might as well be published, knocking out my next novel or serialisation on this plane, my fingers prancing over the laptop keyboard. Instead I sit here on the verge of sending my first work off to prospective agents, publishers and editors this coming Monday. My shit is good – that much I know – but who do I send it to – and why should they be so fortunate to have first refusal of my work. Perhaps it’s the gin or the business class seat, but I don’t know how many of those privileged enough to live in these civilised heights have either the inclination or the vocabulary to describe it. I wish I could say this is written for the man on the opposite side of the screen from my backward facing airline seat, but it is for the eyes and minds of the future. Contemporary literature leaves me bored if not sleeping, though just as words from the past fascinate me, I would hope writing from this day and age would absorb those of the future. Such it is to live in times of great change; almost everything in my daily life is unrecognisable to those of perhaps 3 genuine generations ago. This is a button activated world and why it may not be important to know which buttons to press it is important to realise that sometimes it best to conceive of reality before you put it into words – in this task alone, here I have failed. But that is not to say I can not express that with the same eloquence as the point I was trying to make. The lack of sleep and the gin is taking hold it’s time to do the custom forms and then sleep for an hour or 3.
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61F of BA292 is back in economy and ready to explode. Or at least I had been, I was forced to move forward into the empty carriage of world traveller plus to type this, there was simply no room back there either to write or explode. I can count perhaps six people in the 5 rows of 8 higher comfort seats on this side of the dividing curtain. I had to make a break for it; I had started to make gnashing noises at the guys sat in the seats in front of me, both of them in fully reclined positions. Having already scraped the contents from my nose and deposited it on his hair and continually kicked the back of his chair for 5 minutes it was time to escape the stress. I said ‘guys’ in front because I was actually lucky enough to have a spare seat next to me, the tray table of which I was using to rest my laptop on after the person directly in front of me crushed the screen into my face as he reclined, but then as the other guy, or perhaps moron is a more acceptable term, also reclined, my laptop was forced to a 45o angle making it somewhat difficult to type and see the screen. It is ridiculous that when you only have 12inches of space between you and the person behind, you should be able to oppress them further by reclining the chair, leaving about 6inches between back of head and nose. I also saw someone on the other side of the aisle in a similar predicament, although much larger than me they were unable to even make it from their seat to the bathroom because of the recliner in front. These are the selfish people of the world and economy class highlights the effect they have on simple living folk. Even though I only had a minute elderly Japanese lady in the seat behind me, I would never think to press that button and move myself towards her, even though she was fast asleep. Luckily for me, just as I was starting to think my behaviour was irrational and the effect of being spoilt by my recent business class experience I looked over to see the man in front was actually reading the Da Vinci code, this is after it has been and gone from the cinema, so I knew I was right, he too was a moron. If that bloody book should go on to become a classic of my generation and my work remains unpublished, I’ll perhaps rethink matters – but for the time being – I would assert I am just and he is a fucking prick.
However, it is noted that the oppression, anger and stress that has cursed through my veins since checking in and realising I was restricted to the economy cabin might be due to me having become accustomed to travelling at a higher class. Yet I would assert karma has treated me badly today. It can’t of course treat people badly, it is what it is - and it is us with our conditioned perceptions that make it into a good or bad thing. I suppose in this instance I feel hard done by because I recently carried out one of my greatest selfless acts, again this is all confined by perception and conditioning. As I left the hotel in the USA’s capital the morning before last (depending on your time zone) I witnessed a magnificent site that set a broad grin across my face. A Krispee Kreme delivery driver was doing his rounds and had stopped outside an office block; from the back of his van he loaded up another guy with arms outstretched with tray after tray of doughnuts, it was a joy to stare at from across the street and I did. As the delivery driver was just shutting the doors to the van he looked across and saw me – stopped dead in my tracks. “You’ve got the best fucking job in the world, man” I exclaimed at him. Then, with an action that will confuse me until I leave for the bright white light of death, he took a box of doughnuts out and held them in my direction. “You want some?” he yelled at me, then burst into laughter probably upon seeing my eyes bulge as I stepped into the road and began to cross regardless of on coming traffic. “Wow, you sure?” I asked as I got nearer, “Yeah, my man, no worries” he replied. I was stunned and stood shaking my head as I took the box of 6 raspberry filled glazed doughnuts from him. “That’s amazing, so kind” were about the only words to drip from my amazed face. He followed up my mumblings by shocking me further, “You want some more?” Glancing into the back of the van and seeing it packed high with shelf after shelf and box after box of doughnuts my reserved Englishness took over, “Nah, I can’t do that, man”, I must have sounded sad and shook my head he was taken a back as he said “Why not?” There was no logical reason; this was the be all and end all of sugared snacks, the like of which in the UK are reserved for special occasions, being offered to me for free. Yet, reasoning was required and I managed to say “I got a long way to walk, I can’t carry anymore – or I’d take everything you could give me”, he smiled as we shook hands. “Ok man, well you enjoy and take it easy” he said fastening his van doors. “Yeah, you too and like I said – best fucking job in the world man!” Laughing we went our separate ways, hopefully each feeling an added spring to our step. I know I did as I headed off to the Jefferson Memorial, doughnuts in hand.
Moments later he drove by and honked (as he would no doubt say) at me and I waved furiously. “God bless America” It’s the first time I’ve ever said those words without a hint of jest and they came to me before I had a chance to realise what I was saying. Striding down the concrete sidewalk I thought of the permutations of the situation, what he thought of me and how it had come to be. “Probably his first and last day on the job” I imagined, “just driving round handing out doughnuts to people!” Just then as I was, for a change, admiring the land of the free, rather than bemoaning it, the reality of the place hit me - as it always does. Crossing under a bridge I saw and smelled the dwellings of a homeless person. There was a makeshift mattress to the side of the pavement with a threadbare blanket, some bags of trash (as he would call it), a pile of newspapers, and even some torn books. This was advanced vagrancy, the guy had obviously been there sometime, with a smile I placed the doughnuts, none too carefully, on the pile of books, knocking a couple off the pile. I hoped it would be a nice present to come home to, that is if he had one. It was a selfless act, especially taking into account my love for the doughnuts, but I’d had a $20 breakfast at a 5star hotel that morning, I didn’t need them. As I walked on…
Apologies - my sentence was just interrupted by a member of the cabin crew asking me, none too politely, to return to my original seat, they are the policewomen of the sky, engrossed in their power trips. I am now back behind the recliners, my laptop forced upon me with my elbows raised and extended as I struggle to type. Get to the back of the bus, – it seems the karma and class train rolls on in the skies of our world.
…. I realised there in lies the problem with America and its people, they love what they have, are thankful for it and proud of their achievements but it is a vast place and there are many without the trappings of the dream like lifestyle they aspire to. Furthermore, not often enough do those share the dream with those who can’t afford it. I guess it’s the same everywhere, but in the US it’s more noticeable because of the outlandish divides between rich and poor. There are, in short, enough doughnuts to go round, you just have to buy your own and pass on the free ones to those that can’t afford them.
Karma it seems didn’t care for my selfless act which I thought would at least get me an upgrade to business. But as a forceful ejection from the next cabin has proved – sometimes there is no pleasing that which is unaware. Oh well, it’s an hour and half until landing, best try to get some sleep, or at least mediate for a bit. I remembered the CDR\DVD drive this time, but I can’t see the screen on my laptop to put it to use, may be I’ll watch it at home and try to avoid long haul flights for a while.
posted by Marcus Woodrow at 16:46
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