I have a special kind of irritation reserved for the process required to board a plane. I used the word process in the sense that means 'shambles'. However that is another post. And by post I mean 'rant'.
This irritation was highlighted on Friday at joy that is Luton Airport. Jose and where sitting down when the buzz went round that the flight was boarding. You know, when everyone thinks they are going to call boarding so jumps up and rushes to be in the front of the queue. Jose and I dutifully jumped up and rushed to be in the front of the queue. After a few minutes of standing around the air hostess announced that it would still be a while till boarding and would everyone please sit down. After the third time she announced this everyone looked at everyone else in a shifty way and then proceeded to start sitting down.
Jose and I started sitting down in two seats that had been vacated in the rush to queue. As we did so a man growled at us "Those are my seats". Jose and I looked at each other in amazement, and I shrugged my shoulders and started heading back to where we were originally sitting. Jose started making loud snarky remarks such as "I thought this was a public airport" and other things and I dragged her away lest a fight start.
We sat down at bitched at the
man twunt who put his bag on one seat and sat on the other for a few minutes before asking a guy near him to watch his bags as he went off to find the toilets. The chutzpah. Let me point out that these were the seats closed to the boarding gate, prime seats if you will.
The air hostess came on again and announced that boarding would start shortly from Gate 1, and not Gate 3 as originally instructed. Jose and I shuffled double quick over to Gate 1 and were about 4th in the queue. We smirked to ourselves in glee that Mr Twunt Fuknob (Mr TF) in the ugly brown jacket could now have his two seats and we didn't care.
This was until Mr TF casually walked up to the (now long queue) and stood right in the very front. This prompted the group of girls he just stood in front of to turn to each other and say things like "I'm sorry am I invisible", but Mr TF ignored them.
No one had the guts to walk up to him and tell him where the back of the queue was located. Or more to the point smash his head in with their hand luggage. These moments I call, "If Simon was here" moments.
It gets worse. They announce can all people with children and those in need of assistance please board, and Mr TF tried to board. Fortunately he got the Low Cost Air Hostess glare of death (with pained smiled) and refused. He still however managed to board and get that crucial seat he wanted (Seat A6) and I assume got off the plane a full 2.7 minutes before. Maybe even 3 full minutes.
I hope he gets his tie caught in the baggage carousel.