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Thought I’d have a quickie in London.
4 days.
Then 3.
Then…
Let’s just say my quickie is slow going.
I’m going to London.
I hope.
Flying standby.
I have a friend who is a flight attendant.
Won’t tell you his name because you’ll bug him for standby passes.
Or maybe not.
Standby means sitting on your ass.
For hours.
If you get a seat.
It’s cheap.
But not easy.
No one was voting to Brexit the flight.
I watched everyone get on.
Including an icon.
With her iconic boobs.
If you are old enough to remember a movie called The Deep…
You remember Jacqueline Bisset’s nipples.
You may remember she won a Golden Globe (that’s not a boob reference) 2 years ago.
And gave a sweet but rambling speech.
I spoke to her for a bit.
She was on my flight.
Or what I hoped was my flight.
But when it took flight….
Jackie was in first class.
My ass was in an Uber.
Someone on the flight told me Jackie wasn’t pleased with first.
Even though I no longer gossip for a living…
People still tell me shit.
Some guy even tweeted Jackie was grumpy.
Me too.
No crumpets and tea for me.
At least not today.
Since I had a friend with a free place to stay in London (friends with perks seems to be a theme.)
I decided to try, try again.
Day 2…
Up at 5 am.
Another Uber.
My driver was from London.
Told him I’d say a prayer for both of us at Westminster Abbey.
Hope he isn’t relying on that.
There were plenty of seats to London through Houston.
But I had a problem.
6:55AM to Houston was oversold.
7:20AM…
So close!
Almost on the runway when paying customers ran up.
A nice family of 4.
So excited to make their flight.
I hated them.
The 9:30 was oversold.
The 9:40 was cancelled.
I went from number 1 to 27 on the standby list.
It seemed too risky to buy anything duty-free.
But I tried all the testers.
Standby has tested me before.
I once spent the night waiting for a flight.
Sleeping on the airport floor gets chilly around 4.
Around 5 the nice maintainance guy let me drive the Zamboni.
This time I …
Applied makeup (only after people recognized me.)
Friends kept texting…
Where are you?
So I took a bathroom selfie.
I tweeted it.
Some nice girl on Twitter photoshopped me.
I tweeted that too.
That killed an hour or two.
I wrote this blog.
That killed an hour or three.
Mostly I watched planes take off without me.
Five times I got stood up by standby.
It was time to hang it up.
I thought London was calling.
Apparently not.
Guess she wasn’t in the mood for a quickie.
But standby.
I may try again…
I once heard that Paul Mc Cartney didn’t buy all the oil paints he wanted while shopping. Sir Paul felt it would cost to much…. Sir Paul is worth billions, still has the mindset of his youth. Nothing wrong with that. It’s refreshing, it’s simple, a bit old fashioned I guess. No matter how much someone has the inner child remembers…feels… lack.
You could go up to the desk and purchase the ticket, yet you pursue the adventure, the child in you. You are a kind and loving person with a soul you listen to. Sometimes it is just the adventure, a quest to conquer…. Continue on your own journey.