Friday, 23 December 2011

Massage Chairs

Flying was only half the story.

The second half I was too lazy to write…until now!


So that was the KL to Dubai leg.

I got off my plane in Dubai, very happy that I already had my next boarding pass and I'd gone in the right direction.

I found my gate…and then went for a duty-free stroll.

Perusing some Arabian all-sorts shop, I was between the metal Aladdin lamps and the dates when I heard a strange voice behind me.

Strange Voice: Helloooo.

And it was especially strange because it sounded like it knew me.

I turned around.

And there was my Dad!

Me: 0.o ?

Strange Dad: Hello! How are you?!

Me: Hi…what are you doing here?

Turns out that dear father was travelling for business and engineered his transit to co-ordinate with mine…and he was on the same flight home!

How fun.

Except that he was in business class.

And I was not.


And tragically failed to get me upgraded except for the final 30 minutes of the flight, where I had just enough time to MARVEL at the far more extensive menu, the massive TV screen and noise reduction headphones(?!) but too short a time to abuse the free champagne, request extra chair padding or make full, sleeping use of the glorious reclinable MASSAGE chair (who even knew they had that?!).

[yes, i tested them all.]

RUINED for economy class forever.

Literally, if there's one thing that's worth spending all your money on, it's travelling well.

For reals.


Once off the plane I spotted a middle aged man wearing a flat cap.

And a yellow neck tie.

With a salmon pink shirt.

And woodland-green cord trousers.

Royal green socks, pulled up to the knee.

Finished off with summer hiking sandals.

Ahh, I thought, welcome home, me.

Then I got into my chauffeur driven Mercedes.

They don't tell you about these corporate perks in school, when you're choosing to become an artist…

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