Flying with Daragh

Up until maybe two decades ago, flying was a luxury reserved only for the business-persons of the world and the stupidly rich. Alas, in the modern world it’s as common as the name John Murphy. Due to this, we’re all fairly familiar with the seemingly massive amounts of effort needed to get on a flight. I’m not sure if it’s just me but these days it seems like those working in the airport do everything within their power to deter you from getting on the flight, and instead exclaim ‘Feck this anyway!‘, drop out of the line and head to Dingle for the weekend. (Much easier!) 
Anyway here’s a few of the things that ALWAYS seem to happen before you launch into the air in a massive metal can for a few hours:

You get to the airport. It’s absolutely manic, as in, everyone seems to be under the impression that it’s a race to get to f**king anywhere in the building. Biys are more or less sprinting to check-in desks and vending machines alike. Chaos. Today at least, you can check in online so that saves some of that effort you will no doubt spend on something else later. 

Checked-in baggage: First of all, completely overpriced. For Christs’ sake it shouldn’t cost almost 100 quid to check in a return bag? It’s basically more the same as the cost of the flight! If that wasn’t bad enough, you only have 20kg. To be fair that’s actually plenty. What’s f*cking shit is when you’re 50 grams over weight and the lady at the check-in desk looks down smugly as you’re forced to reorganise your bags so the checked-in one is underweight, because apparently being 50 grams overweight significantly increases the chances of everyone on board dying in a fiery blaze over the Atlantic Ocean. I guess nobody wants to be that guy.

Security: F*ck me. It’s one of those rare moments in life where, even though you’ve done nothing wrong, you’re sweating ‘coz you might get caught’. It’s a similar feeling to walking out of a shop without buying something, except 84 times worse. It only intensifies when they stop your bag and ask you to show the contents. You stand there half expecting to find a hand-gun and half a kilo of coke in your bag all of a sudden. (Don’t worry though you just brought too big a bottle of toothpaste… Idiot).

We made it. We’re through security. There is no more annoying shit. Hah wrong. This is probably the most annoying f*cking thing. Why the f*ck do people line up early for the gate?? As if there’s not enough seats for everyone and you might not f*cking get on? You paid for a seat. You have a seat number. Why are you standing in the same spot for 40 minutes when you’re 100% guaranteed to get on the plane. Stop being a moron, go grab a pint and wait for last call. 

Other minor shit include getting sat next to someone utterly unbearable, but to be fair that rarely happens. Kids don’t tend to kick the back of seats anymore because they’re too enveloped in doing some crazy shit on their Ipads or phones, so there’s a plus. It’s been a few years since anyone has clapped on landing when I’ve been on a plane but I know they’re still out there. I mean, do you clap for the postman when he delivers the post? No, because that’s his job, he’s just doing what he’s meant to be f*cking doing. They’re usually the same eejits who pay for extra leg room or refuse to leave anyone out before them on landing, standing firmly in the aisle, bag gripped in one hand and the look of sheer determination spread across their face. If you’re one of these people and you’re reading this, I hope you’re luggage gets lost next time you fly, you absolute sausage.

So yeah that’s flying in a nutshell. Free peanuts though, am I right?


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