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- a member for 18 years, 2 months and 4 days
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» Airport Stories
Knucklehead=me
Hi, I fly a lot! Over 100 flights in 2005, mainly in Europe and including commercial jets, private jets, props & helicopters. My usual trip is from London City to Copenhagen as I work in London but live with my family in Sweden, just a short train trip from CPH airport.
Anyway, this particular Friday was a pretty important flight home, I was scheduled to pick up our wedding rings on Saturday from Malmo, and being Sweden the shops shut at lunchtime meaning there was no room for missing this flight and catching another the following morning. I got to the airport well in time feeling rather pleased with myself and walked up to the check-in only to realise I had not brought my wallet. Not usually an issue, as I could use my passport to check in and had enough cash in my pocket for anything else I might need,, except of course my rings. doh!
I called my flatmate and asked if he could help, and he promised to be out the door in seconds, which would be OK as it is only a 40 minute trip and I still had time. I handed my passport to the check-in clerk, who after a few minutes banging the keyboard explained that I was not on the flight. Slightly confused I headed towards the ticket desk where my problem could be addressed. There were 2 people ahead of me, so I got out my laptop and looked from my e-ticket confirmation. Easily located it became apparant that I was in trouble. I had booked myself not on the 18.00 from London City, but on the 14.05 from Heathrow. doh! So I am at City airport, desperately needing to get to Copenhagen on a flight for which I had no ticket and with no credit cards or my gold Eurobonus card to establish me as a top customer.
I approached the desk tentatively and said 'I really need some help'. No problem said the nice German Lufthansa ticket lady. I lied and said that my secretary had made a mistake booking my flight, and as I was a gold-card holder (with no card as proof) could she help me. Pah she said, this is SAS fault, their website is too confusing, this is the second problem with incorrect airports I have had this week. I mentioned that I had no money, but she said this was no problem. She upgraded my bucket seat from Heathrow to flex-economy (which meant I got fed), and transferred it over to the flight from City. I was on the flight and my flatmate turned up just after I had checked in with my wallet. Moral of the story..
1. Lie (not sure this was necessary, but..)
2. When you have screwed up, be polite and apologetic and grateful
3. Even if you haven't screwed up, behaviour towards those who can help often leads to an increase in their desire to do so.
(Sun 5th Mar 2006, 10:23, More)
Knucklehead=me
Hi, I fly a lot! Over 100 flights in 2005, mainly in Europe and including commercial jets, private jets, props & helicopters. My usual trip is from London City to Copenhagen as I work in London but live with my family in Sweden, just a short train trip from CPH airport.
Anyway, this particular Friday was a pretty important flight home, I was scheduled to pick up our wedding rings on Saturday from Malmo, and being Sweden the shops shut at lunchtime meaning there was no room for missing this flight and catching another the following morning. I got to the airport well in time feeling rather pleased with myself and walked up to the check-in only to realise I had not brought my wallet. Not usually an issue, as I could use my passport to check in and had enough cash in my pocket for anything else I might need,, except of course my rings. doh!
I called my flatmate and asked if he could help, and he promised to be out the door in seconds, which would be OK as it is only a 40 minute trip and I still had time. I handed my passport to the check-in clerk, who after a few minutes banging the keyboard explained that I was not on the flight. Slightly confused I headed towards the ticket desk where my problem could be addressed. There were 2 people ahead of me, so I got out my laptop and looked from my e-ticket confirmation. Easily located it became apparant that I was in trouble. I had booked myself not on the 18.00 from London City, but on the 14.05 from Heathrow. doh! So I am at City airport, desperately needing to get to Copenhagen on a flight for which I had no ticket and with no credit cards or my gold Eurobonus card to establish me as a top customer.
I approached the desk tentatively and said 'I really need some help'. No problem said the nice German Lufthansa ticket lady. I lied and said that my secretary had made a mistake booking my flight, and as I was a gold-card holder (with no card as proof) could she help me. Pah she said, this is SAS fault, their website is too confusing, this is the second problem with incorrect airports I have had this week. I mentioned that I had no money, but she said this was no problem. She upgraded my bucket seat from Heathrow to flex-economy (which meant I got fed), and transferred it over to the flight from City. I was on the flight and my flatmate turned up just after I had checked in with my wallet. Moral of the story..
1. Lie (not sure this was necessary, but..)
2. When you have screwed up, be polite and apologetic and grateful
3. Even if you haven't screwed up, behaviour towards those who can help often leads to an increase in their desire to do so.
(Sun 5th Mar 2006, 10:23, More)
» * PFFT *
school haze
Fond school memories, I was indeed blessed in the trumpy department.
1 - I was caned for farting when a teacher made me stand outside and the headmaster was patrolling whilst I was stood outside. The most amusing part was watching the teacher explain why I was standing outside without starting a gigglefest in the classrom. His first thought was to say I had been releiving myself, which the headmaster interpreted as me taking a leak and exposing my boy-bits. Made me laugh inside, at least until I was dragged off by the ear to be caned, minor offence, 1 on each hand - thanks Mr. Whetton the teacher and Mr. Bellamy the head.
2 - I was evicted from French and English in the same morning, for sharing my joy. No sense of humour language teachers, so I can't remember their names.
3 - I bought some Dr. Windbreakers Fart-Powder from Goose Fair in Nottingham, and then thought it would be fun to add it to my school dinner. It was green, and as I added to my sausage and mash a teacher, Mr. Deuville sat down on the table. A friend asked him whether he knew what it was that I was adding to my lunch. He confirmed that he did, and he was leaving. I nevere asked him how he knew, maybe he was a regular user.
4 - What I like to think of as my finest farting moment, RE or Religiuos Education as it was known back in 1978. I let slip a tiny little pop, almost silent, certainly deadly. It seemed to rise above my head and then spread out like a mushroom cloud before falling on all 32 kids in the class and the unfortunate Miss Love. The kids at the back of the class opened and jumped straight out of the window, not sure whether they rememberedthat we were on the ground floor or even cared. The kids at the front of the class ran for the door, but the ones I felt sorry fr were those in the middle who had bunched up behind those making use of the emergency exits. I was cracked up with laughing as Miss Love shouted 'calm down children, please, calm down'. Not sure she was expecting such disruption from the top set, we were supposed to be the clever/nice ones.
My ex-wife was not happy with this undocumented feature of her beau. She was not best pleased by either the farts themselves or even by the word fart, I had to refer to them as 'pumps', as my mates said, there was no way they could be called pumps, fart was too small a word for them. I was also expected to stick my arse out of the patio door when I felt them coming, I did mention that this was my ex-wife didn't I?
Happy days, my own son (by my current wife) is now starting to generate some excellent burps, it is only a matter of time before the wind like a salmon swims home to spawn. It is enough to make you weep.
(Tue 17th Jul 2007, 15:23, More)
school haze
Fond school memories, I was indeed blessed in the trumpy department.
1 - I was caned for farting when a teacher made me stand outside and the headmaster was patrolling whilst I was stood outside. The most amusing part was watching the teacher explain why I was standing outside without starting a gigglefest in the classrom. His first thought was to say I had been releiving myself, which the headmaster interpreted as me taking a leak and exposing my boy-bits. Made me laugh inside, at least until I was dragged off by the ear to be caned, minor offence, 1 on each hand - thanks Mr. Whetton the teacher and Mr. Bellamy the head.
2 - I was evicted from French and English in the same morning, for sharing my joy. No sense of humour language teachers, so I can't remember their names.
3 - I bought some Dr. Windbreakers Fart-Powder from Goose Fair in Nottingham, and then thought it would be fun to add it to my school dinner. It was green, and as I added to my sausage and mash a teacher, Mr. Deuville sat down on the table. A friend asked him whether he knew what it was that I was adding to my lunch. He confirmed that he did, and he was leaving. I nevere asked him how he knew, maybe he was a regular user.
4 - What I like to think of as my finest farting moment, RE or Religiuos Education as it was known back in 1978. I let slip a tiny little pop, almost silent, certainly deadly. It seemed to rise above my head and then spread out like a mushroom cloud before falling on all 32 kids in the class and the unfortunate Miss Love. The kids at the back of the class opened and jumped straight out of the window, not sure whether they rememberedthat we were on the ground floor or even cared. The kids at the front of the class ran for the door, but the ones I felt sorry fr were those in the middle who had bunched up behind those making use of the emergency exits. I was cracked up with laughing as Miss Love shouted 'calm down children, please, calm down'. Not sure she was expecting such disruption from the top set, we were supposed to be the clever/nice ones.
My ex-wife was not happy with this undocumented feature of her beau. She was not best pleased by either the farts themselves or even by the word fart, I had to refer to them as 'pumps', as my mates said, there was no way they could be called pumps, fart was too small a word for them. I was also expected to stick my arse out of the patio door when I felt them coming, I did mention that this was my ex-wife didn't I?
Happy days, my own son (by my current wife) is now starting to generate some excellent burps, it is only a matter of time before the wind like a salmon swims home to spawn. It is enough to make you weep.
(Tue 17th Jul 2007, 15:23, More)
» The worst sex I ever had
a tie
between the ropey looking streetwalker that I found in Brussels when extremely pissed and took to my brothers place only to find out that it had meat and veg when it was giving me a blow job. I let him carry on, but I really wasn't up for it and my member limped off
. or the attractively plain girl in 'La Cloche' in Utrecht, who was apparently bowled over with me as my mate said she had rushed into his session to tell the girl my Dutch mate was with that I was the best she had ever had, to which my response when he told me later was that she was a long long way from the best I have ever had. Just boring, I think if I am paying for it I would rather have extreme over acting than the breathing equivalent of a piece of meat - although I think I would rather have that than find out that I was in the mouth of a 'bloke'.
(Fri 15th Jun 2007, 15:20, More)
a tie
between the ropey looking streetwalker that I found in Brussels when extremely pissed and took to my brothers place only to find out that it had meat and veg when it was giving me a blow job. I let him carry on, but I really wasn't up for it and my member limped off
. or the attractively plain girl in 'La Cloche' in Utrecht, who was apparently bowled over with me as my mate said she had rushed into his session to tell the girl my Dutch mate was with that I was the best she had ever had, to which my response when he told me later was that she was a long long way from the best I have ever had. Just boring, I think if I am paying for it I would rather have extreme over acting than the breathing equivalent of a piece of meat - although I think I would rather have that than find out that I was in the mouth of a 'bloke'.
(Fri 15th Jun 2007, 15:20, More)