I'm not afraid of flying...
...I just really hate travelling, and not just on planes either - it's boring, uncomfortable and there's always either some kid(s) whining or fucking about* or both. Either that or a bunch of morons chattering away at top volume about some banal shite or other, making me want to bury a ballpoint in thier skulls. I wouldn't mind if thier conversations and the statements contained therein were worth hearing, but 99 times out of 100, they aren't, unless the point is actually to make me want to kill them with everyday pointy objects. Whoever said that it's better to travel than to arrive was either going somewhere really shit or just a bit touched in the head.

I got caught out by some numptiness at Lyon airport too though (or was it De Gaulle? What's the difference, it's still France), on the way back from a snowboarding holiday. The wing was damaged as in SimonD's story but it was done by means of a half-asleep pillock on the ground crew driving some manner of support vehicle into it minutes before we boarded. We heard the crunch, looked toward the sound and our hearts sank as we looked at the minor but still groundworthy damage; that's our plane - chances are it's going nowhere now - this means we're going to be stranded in France - well, fucknuts. Our sentiments were echoed in the dolly's face as she waited for the phone to ring, which it did seconds later. We had to wait 8 bloody hours for another plane. After a week-and-a-half of Andorran munchies all I wanted was a sausage roll (a ginsters buffet bar was too much to hope for, I knew) and a king size snickers. Could I find even one of these things, even when the shops were open? Could I fuck. Just rows and rows of unappetizing mystery sarnies/pastries/fuck-knows-what and that kinder stuff you find on the continent with those kids on the wrapper who look like they're possessed or something. And crepes. Fucking French.

* /slightly off topic - I remember one time flying to Chicago and there was a couple with three young kids next to me in the centre seating bit. Once in the air, the kids were playing hide-and-seek and SCREEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEEAMING every time they caught sight of each other, which sparked a chase over and under the seats - not around, not down the aisle, oh no, but climbing over the seats and crawling under them as was deemed appropriate. It was only when one of the little shits kicked me in the head that I told them to have a minute. The mother got arsey and pulled me up '...don't talk to my kids like that/they're bored/long flight/if they were your kids...' etc. This struck me as unfair, seeing as it was her kids who were acting like rambunctious arseholes with no consideration for anyone else on the plane whatsoever, so I took umbridge. I pointed out that if we were in, for example, a childrens' playground then there would be no problem. Playgrounds are made for that action, after all. However, we were in fact on a COMMERCIAL JET AEROPLANE, TRAVELING AT VERY HIGH SPEED SOME 30-ODD THOUSAND FUCKING FEET ABOVE THE ATLANTIC OCEAN so had they indeed been my kids, they would already be crystal clear on the fact that there isn't room for Jungle Gym action here and that this kind of behaviour was not cute or endearing but ANNOYING, ANTISOCIAL AND DOWNRIGHT FUCKING DANGEROUS and so they would be SAT THE FUCK DOWN whilst SHUTTING THE FUCK UP. I also pointed out that any adult behaving the same way as her little darlings would have been lashed to thier seat by now with the police waiting for them at destination. I went on to suggest that if she herself was unable to make her spawn SIT THE FUCK DOWN and SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'd be only too happy to ask the cabin crew to do it for her. This cowed the woman's indignance somewhat and she managed to chill her kids out enough to stop me bundling the little fuckers into an overhead locker, along with her and her hen-pecked hubby, who incidentally didn't even look up from his lap during this exchange - no prizes for guessing who wears the strides there. Some parents piss me off with this whole 'Oooh, we deserve special dispensation because we propogated' thing - oh, do fuck off, and take your inconsiderate brats with you. Don't know how they managed to produce three kids between them anyway, since the bloke so obviously had no balls to speak of.

Okay, added so much to this one now that I must add the customary apologies for length, but I'll spare you the nob gag ;)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 22:24, Reply)