So having left the parents at Heathrow in a state of emotional disarray I boarded my flight to the land of the (relative) unknown. Taking my seat next to a kindly looking Austrian lady things were looking up; she only smelled slightly of Emmental and seemed eager to make conversation, a facet of travelling which I had previously decided to embrace. She offered me a travel sweet which I obviously refused (rule no. 1: don't accept food from strangers on transport) and on that low point of our relationship the plane took flight.
Having watched two life affirming family movies about the importance of community or some shit things were taking their course - I was getting quietly drunk on free spirits and the Austrian woman was snoring away like a lion after feeding. I put on my service light in eager anticipation of more free stuff when the 'incident' took place. Little in my life could have prepared me for the miasma of mustard gas which followed.
The fart emerged from the seat of the Austrian lady with the sound that can only be recreated from the deep base of a church organ, and rose to a pitch that would have left dogs in the baggage hold howling for mercy. The cheesy Frauline was mercifully asleep and was spared the embarrasment that followed, but the 6 odd passengers around her (including the stewardess) were not; the faces of said passengers twisted into expressions of horror or amusement depending on their proximity to ground zero. I laughed with them until the enormity of her lower colon hit me with the force of a metric ton of change dropped from the eiffel tower.
It was like having your face thrust into a bag that contained the love child of a pickled herring and the chimneys of Dachau, a sensation that triggered the whiskey and buttered chicken in my stomach to fight for a return to my oesophagus. I managed to stumble to the toilet before these fuckers made it to my mouth, leading me to vomit liberally in and around the bathroom area. Having quenched my involuntary face explosion I returned to my seat to glare at the responsible party for the remainder of the flight while she slept with a soundness of a gassy new born child.
Having attempted to order everything possible from the BA stewardesses (turns out you get 16 sachets of mixed salt and pepper if you just ask) we landed in Delhi international.
'You travelling far?' asked the recently sentient culprit.
'No, just the centre' I answered.
She nodded knowingly. 'First time?'
'There's already been a few'
'Huh' she said quizzically, and made towards the exit.
The assembled flight made their way to luggage return. I walked briskly among them, mind fogged by the sensory assult I had recently endured, when my brain suddenly kicked in with what phrases it thought I should have said. 'FIRST TIME IN A GAS CHAMBER? YEAH, NOT SOMEWHERE I MAKE A HABBIT OF...I mean, first time in space? yeah think I might bypass Uranus next time...I mean....um....first time in.....er......you farted.' Having established that my cranium had nothing good to say after it's first encounter with the turd kind (heh), I moved through the airport doors to be the eager predators of the Delhi taxi rank. I fucking hate the elderly.
Having watched two life affirming family movies about the importance of community or some shit things were taking their course - I was getting quietly drunk on free spirits and the Austrian woman was snoring away like a lion after feeding. I put on my service light in eager anticipation of more free stuff when the 'incident' took place. Little in my life could have prepared me for the miasma of mustard gas which followed.
The fart emerged from the seat of the Austrian lady with the sound that can only be recreated from the deep base of a church organ, and rose to a pitch that would have left dogs in the baggage hold howling for mercy. The cheesy Frauline was mercifully asleep and was spared the embarrasment that followed, but the 6 odd passengers around her (including the stewardess) were not; the faces of said passengers twisted into expressions of horror or amusement depending on their proximity to ground zero. I laughed with them until the enormity of her lower colon hit me with the force of a metric ton of change dropped from the eiffel tower.
It was like having your face thrust into a bag that contained the love child of a pickled herring and the chimneys of Dachau, a sensation that triggered the whiskey and buttered chicken in my stomach to fight for a return to my oesophagus. I managed to stumble to the toilet before these fuckers made it to my mouth, leading me to vomit liberally in and around the bathroom area. Having quenched my involuntary face explosion I returned to my seat to glare at the responsible party for the remainder of the flight while she slept with a soundness of a gassy new born child.
Having attempted to order everything possible from the BA stewardesses (turns out you get 16 sachets of mixed salt and pepper if you just ask) we landed in Delhi international.
'You travelling far?' asked the recently sentient culprit.
'No, just the centre' I answered.
She nodded knowingly. 'First time?'
'There's already been a few'
'Huh' she said quizzically, and made towards the exit.
The assembled flight made their way to luggage return. I walked briskly among them, mind fogged by the sensory assult I had recently endured, when my brain suddenly kicked in with what phrases it thought I should have said. 'FIRST TIME IN A GAS CHAMBER? YEAH, NOT SOMEWHERE I MAKE A HABBIT OF...I mean, first time in space? yeah think I might bypass Uranus next time...I mean....um....first time in.....er......you farted.' Having established that my cranium had nothing good to say after it's first encounter with the turd kind (heh), I moved through the airport doors to be the eager predators of the Delhi taxi rank. I fucking hate the elderly.
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