The joy of airports. Airport is empty, apart from three flights all going to our destination.
“Two of the check in desks are broken so they’re opening another one,” brother says, when he returns from investigating what-seems-to-be-the-problem.
“Don’t push in front of us,” says the man next to us, in a very rude voice. He is weighed down with six children.
“Why didn’t we get a letter from the doctors saying am terminally ill and mustn’t be forced to take my shoes off all the time,” I say to Mum. They were meant to provide a letter stating that have metal in my body, so if set any alarms off it’s just the magnet in the expander and not a knife or gun or even tweezers.
It’s already noisy and fractious in the queue: people all have five children each including far too many screaming babies. Why would one fly with a baby, can’t help thinking. Am bound to be stuck behind one.
Breakfast will be after check in. Am not well without breakfast. On the plus side, am not managing several human larvae. The noise level rises. Must be thankful that am infertile.
Looking forward to having fought through check in and perusing the shops. Usually quite enjoy the airport experience but am tired, hot and very weak.
It will be so nice to be in Abroad, remind self. Sun, sea and absolutely no sexuals. Have a Boyfriend.
Happy Thursday everyone!
*2012. Iain Reading. Book One in the Kitty Hawk Flying Detective Agency series.