"Excuse me... Are you travelling alone?"
Asked the utterly drop-dead gorgeous Australian girl as I was standing in line at the check-in at Heathrow. I looked at her. She looked at me. For a moment time seemed to stand still - this was uncharted territory for me. The nearest I'd ever come to meaningful conversation with a girl was when Judy Gill had brushed past me in the doorway of the English classroom and apologised for standing on my foot. I cherished that memory for months. But my luck was obviously about to change for the better.

Here was a girl, actually talking to me. Asking if I'm travelling alone, on an aeroplane. Wow. Exotic or what? Air travel with a mysterious, dark-eyed foreign stranger. I'd seen Bond films; I knew how these things worked...

Quick as a flash I responded as any hormonally charged 14 year old would. "No, I'm with my dad, brother and sister". And pointed them out for good measure.

"Oh", she said, and walked off to join the back of the queue.

Fucksocks.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 18 Feb 2010, 23:14, Reply)