The Flight

Upon arriving at Heathrow (where there were nearly tears as Shell dropped me off) I promptly got in the longest queue in the universe for check in. 10 minutes into the wait I realised I was about to die of hunger. Oh, the plight of the solo traveller who can't just jump in and out of queues. Drastic action had to be taken so I started tucking in to the bag of 'Stacy' food that I was taking out for her. I managed to replace it later but still feel guilty. One of the flakes I bought was longer than the others so I had to confess.

1 hour and 45 minutes later I had checked in. I boarded the plane to discover I had been put in a middle seat between a guy and a girl (British). Embarassing silence followed (for 9 hours) - as the Americans both in front and behind got all but the inside leg measurement of the people next to them.

Anyway, the guy next to me (let's call him Mr.Inconsiderate) generously loaned me his elbow to rest my rib cage on. After about an hour EVERYTHING this guy did wound me up, the way his flip flops and magazines kept creeping into my floor space, the way he stuck his big bare feet on the chair in front about a foot from my nose, the way he refused to stand up when I needed to go to the 'rest room' which resulted in me lap-dancing my way across him, and finally by stealing half of my seat belt (he was sitting on his own) so I couldn't even save myself if there was a crash....AAAAARRRRGH.

Being a good Christian I prayed for him all the way...