The Holiday Diaries: Los Angeles/Las Vegas May 2004 (day two, part two)
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
How simple do the staff of Virgin Atlantic flight 023 think their passengers are? You get on at the front of thee plane and some perfectly coiffered barbie/ken doll informs you that your seat is up the aisle in the only direction you can go! Hardly mentally stimulating...
I always get a seat behind some really heavy guy - the one who you think has his chair in the reclined position until he actually puts the chair in the recline position and you are suddenly pinned down by the dinner tray until a kindly steward sets you free. This steward would be the impossibly named Dale Toy. Seriously. Makes a change from the ridiculously top heavy (and less lyrically named) Eleanor Wanklin whose boobs threaten to suffocate me as she leans across to pour darren a coffee. I have an inexplicable urge for milk and realise that my mouth is opn millimetres away from her inappropriately erect nipples (although i am a hottie). Luckily she was too busy with her taking pouring coffee duties to notice...
There is something about cabin pressure that makes my nose bleed profusely and today proved to be no exception. Blood started gushing at alarming speeds from my right nostril and when i had successfully decorated three hankies in autumnal red, Darren had had enough and pressed the attendant call button. Mercifully I get Mr Toy who looks at me like i am a leper and scurries off for more help. At this point i estimate that i have lost pints of blood and start to feel very light headed. I was somewhat aware that Toyboy and Wanklin have returned and are jamming all sorts of things white at my nostril. I close my eyes hoping it would all go away and curse all the nosey bastards finding me far more interesting that the flights poor choice of movies....
SOMETIME LATER...I must have fainted (translation: nodded off) and awake somewhat bleary eyed and in need of the bathroom. I join the line of people who continue to stare at the freak with the nosebleed. I finally get to the front of the line and enter the tiny cubicle (how and why people have sex in here is beyond me). First rule of thumb: make sure you have your shoes on when you go to the bathroom. I took mine off and realise with horror that my socks are now soaking up what i can only pray is water on the toilet floor. What have people been doing in here??? The horror felt by this vileness is replaced by the worse when i glance in the mirror and realise that either Toyboy or Wanklin has jammed what i can only pray is a clean tampon up my right nostril....
To be continued...
Posted by Paul 12:18 am
