Easyjet - Enemy At The Gates

Chu Me and I had left the comfort of the Executive Lounge in Newcastle International Airport and were heading, in an elegant fashion, towards the announced gate. Gliding effortlessly down the corridor, each time one passed by a window the light of Señor Sol’s tentacles would catch the simple selection of diamonds one was wearing and blast a brilliant explosion of light throughout the passageway. One young lady with fake Louis Vuitton hand-luggage and inappropriate footwear asked her companion, ”Was that lightening?!” Concerned, one put one’s right hand on her shoulder and reassured her, “No dear, just flawless diamonds,” and walked on.

Now, in times gone by when one has used the services of Easyjet, one has normally found oneself at the same gate as one found oneself on this particular day. Two departure gates, hidden down a set of stairs, almost in the bowels of the airport, where everyone would previously congregate until they heard the bing-bong and then it was like the opening of a cut price Burberry outlet near a housing estate of chavs; the stampede would begin in earnest. (Still, after all these years, passengers with Boarding Group E think for some inexplicable reason that they can board when Boarding Group A is announced. Then when turned away, stand blocking the thoroughfare, scratching their heads like chimpanzees wondering what to do next.)

Recently, however, someone of limited intelligence has decided it would be far better to create an enormous queue by checking passports etc. at the bottom of the stairwell. To make matters worse, this particular trip saw a rather saggy-jowelled individual standing at the right of the stairs, at the bottom, leaning against the wall like a badly dressed hooker and clinging to a hand-luggage cage with her right hand. She was insisting passengers put their bags inside.

She was a well rounded creature, with blonde hair pulled back in an aubergine coloured scrunchy and her trousers were clinging on to her thighs for dear life. She had, one supposes, what Gok Wan would describe as an hour-glass figure. If that was the case, she was certainly containing more than her fair share of sand.

Anyhoo … one neared the lair of the dragon and she pointed at the aperture. One stood motionless, save one’s eyes looking down at the cage, then up at her face, then down to the cage, then up at her face.

“Could you put your bag in there?” She asked.

“More than likely, dear.” Then one turned to walk to a seat.

“Excuse me! All bags need to be checked for size.”

“Are we expecting the bag to have transformed into a suitcase since check-in, dear?” One said, finally sitting in a seat near the entrance to the gate.

On five occasions people put their hand luggage in and with handles, wheels etc. they proved difficult to remove; the light-weight structure of the tubular template lifted as they tried harder and harder to pull them back out. The Easyjet dragon, nevertheless, continued to hold the apparatus with her right hand. Well, after 5 minutes one stood and sashayed across to her. “For the love of God! Assist them dear! The contraption clearly needs a hefty weight to hold it down while they pull! Stick your hoof on it to give them a chance!”

The result was a resounding success and bags began popping out with gay abandon.

Finally, the flight was announced. Bing-bong and everyone rose to block the entrance of the embarkation aisle as normal. ‘Passengers with Speedy Boarding only please.’ However, one found oneself boxed in. Chu Me slipped through the legs of the blockade and turned to face one with a distressed look on his face.

“EXCUSE ME!!” One shouted. A row of heads turned. “Speedy Boarding does not function efficiently if one is stopped from doing so by a wall of insipid flesh and unnaturally bright fabrics!”

Like the parting of the Red Sea, a channel appeared and one sashayed through onto the aircraft. Chu Me selected a perfect position and covered the seating with the velvet throw. He then placed the small piece of sheepskin rug on the floor and placed a hand-embroidered scatter cushion against the back of the window seat. Just before take-off a woman appeared at the side of our row of seats with the stewardess.

“I think that’s the last seat.” She said, smiling and pointing at the seat in the centre, “May I?”

“You may not, dear!” One replied.

“The lady does need to be secured in a seat for take off and landing, Dame Crusty.” Said the stewardess in a rather condescending tone of voice.

One clapped one’s hands twice and Chu Me jumped up and grabbed hold of the woman and took her up the rear. Then in the toilet, he removed some gaffa tape from his leather man-bag and managed to secure her beautifully to the seat in there. Returning to the side of his mistress, one looked at the now open-mouthed stewardess.

“That should do it poppet! Now … be a dear and inform the Captain we’re ready to leave.”