Planes, Trains, Automobiles and TGIF Take Away

Ok... when I was sitting on a plane at around 1am UK time yesterday I thought I had this blog post worked out... I really did but as I sat there one thing started to bug me. It was the Thank God Its Friday 'Take Away' inside Dallas F-err-long-something-which-why-can't-they-just-call-it-Dallas... airport.

However... it started a fateful couple of days with the following snippet of conversation:
Me: So are you saying you used me in illegal drug trials?
Mother: Yes dear, but it was for your own good.



I should have known that from that minute, that the tone for the next few days was clearly set...

So It Started Off Like

As I went through Dallas Airport, I realised that my carefully chosen Armani Jacket, Boss Jeans, Ralph Lauren t-shirt... well I was out of kilter. I looked like a Roman Senator in Gaul (that is before the Gauls sold out to the Romans), I'm not saying the Americans were charging around wildly with swords and axes (that would have been debatedly cool). It was clear I wasn't an American, I was in the classic British sense of the word 'properly' dressed.

Around the gates was a giant ring of eateries, full restaurants - take away pizza for your flight, and then there was it... the biggest curveball - TGIF Take Away.

To understand this its worth starting back a few hours. Now... I'm not suggesting we're going to go back to the Summer of 05 to understand this with several seasons of comedy before getting to the final punch line, so we'll just go back to the Heathrow-Dallas flight I found myself on, and miss out the mundane nonsense that are conventional linear narratives that curse so many decent blogs/stories...

And as a forethought, remember counting 80,000 people as a million leads to much confusion... this will be (well maybe, I mean I could just leave you bored and unfulfilled... I'll think on whether you, oh great merciful reader, deserve to hear this part of the story...)


Space DC10s to the Future!

Space DC10s, the remit of Scientology - that awesome [libellibellibellibellibellibel] group of [libellibellibellibellibel].

Well my plane from LHR (London Heathrow - abreviated to LHR for possible-badassness - you be the judge oh great reader) - was a BA777, I had managed to blag the 'Great Mystrical Financier' to upgrading me to 'Premium Economy' for shifting a load of stuff to clear my OD (Overdraft). And it was a good reward.

'Premium Economy' is a total oxymoron, but a pretty good one its like 'Limited Total War' or 'Its Tesco Value, but made from decent caviar'... ok, crappy analogy but its the best I can really manage right now.

Basically you get the old Club seats, better film choice, food - that sort of stuff. And seemingly a more Premium passenger.


Clearly Premium Economy Passengers due to Wearing of Pastel Colours

You also get enough leg room to give you delusions of grandeur, every now and then I'd hear people discussing big business ideas whilst I sat with... well a man I tip my hat off to.

I do not remember his name, but he was a retired Scotsman from Edinburgh. For this we'll call him 'Alex' as thats like a totally racially-neutral name...


Scotland and Scottish People - Anything but Stereotypical

Alex suprised me somewhat, I mean he was very well travelled - Krakow, Czechoslovakia next May, all over the UK, America, Europe, the works. I mean... well I'm pretty certain he was very well travelled as he had a thicker accent than a Haggis from Glasgow. This became somewhat confusing as half the time I simply could make out only a few words.

Such as "Las Vegas... no gambling shows.... we like shows." Each '...' consists of around 5 minutes of conversation, so I guess (working hypothesis) that he was going to Vegas not for the gambling but instead he was going for the mind blowing shows.



Alex turned out to be a top fellow and we ended up covering many aspects of conversation - ranging from the socio-political effects of the Second World War, historiography since 1945 regarding the aforementioned war, and social commentry over the 10 hour flight.

At this point I would like to mention my attempt to smarten up to try and blag an upgrade failed. Lets not dwell on that... (You should have worked that out by now noble reader.)

Alex and I concluded that planes were essentially flying fuel tankers, with seats gaffa taped onto them turning them into luxury coaches - and therefore air travel was a terribly comedic activity. Reader, don't judge me, I mean we still had 4 hours to go and the travel conversation was in a loop over 'Poland' and we both agreed 'Lovely People'.


Fly Me To The Moon

You may remember my focus on Space DC10s and Scientology earlier, this was not a totally random brainshower. After we had watched a couple of films, I asked him, "What music is suitable for flying?"

We looked at each other dumbstruck, I mean its the sort of thing thats clear in:


Or...


If you hear this playing over the intercomn on a standard 767 you know you are in trouble.

But what do you have running on a standard flight? As turbulance began to kick in, I raced through a variety of tracks; Spitfire by The Prodigy, 633 Squadron (from film of same name), Dambusters, Snakes on a Plane, Top Gun soundtrack, Can't Fight The Moonlight by Toploader...

Perhaps certain flights should have Wagner/Bach playing? So the passengers could engage in respectful contemplation of the technological miracle that is flight?

Nothing quite cut it, I mean for your average 4-7 hour flight what single song sums it up?

First Class/Club is very obvious I mean...


But for the rest of us? Well... after arguing semantics for around an hour we concluded this song (below)was seemingly passable enough to get us united with a rough consensus that it was passable!




The Serious Business is Concluded the John Terry Business Commences

The Serious Business of the Music was resolved. Huzzah.

However by now I was encountering a substantial problem. My motto when I fly is 'its if free, get it' and the easiest thing going around are usually cheap drinks. By now I had enjoyed: Pint of Pepsi at Heathrow, London Pride, Wine, apple juice, water, coke... I won't go into the quantities of each but I was sober but most definately full. So I had a dilemna, what do I do - do I try and hold it in like a ruptured Dam or do I just go as and when neccessary?

I chose a mixture of the two, which lasted for a while until I realised I was screwed... my bladder was now looser than John Terry's quick release underwear. With turblance - I was screwed.


Exhibit 29: Quick Release Underwear

I managed to overcome the problem at hand with a series of cunning MacGyver-esque moves that would have impressed even Timothy Dalton. At this stage I also pick up a drinks tip for you - Renowned and Respected Reader - Bison Vodka, polish vodka with apple juice - it is the drink of the gods. According to Alex at least.

Like Art
By now the plane was coming in to land at Dallas - it appeared out of the blue like meaning in a Tesco Value Impressionist Painting. The wing tipped enough to make out a vast building Gaylord Texan - mental note to self Texans have no sense of humour regarding this...

Dallas Airport was huge, I actually think its quite smaller than Heathrow but it was designed to look impressive and awe inspiring, with a monorail running through the shops, it certainly managed that.

Despite the people, the shops, the monorail, the cleanliness the whole place felt a bit like 'Shangri-la in reverse' - The Ghost Writer (watched on the plane). The lines of mass fast food outlets were somewhat depressing, especially seeing a few people holding two tickets - clearly just for themselves. Huge takeaways, the works just washed over me and with the news of a 1-1 draw with the US in the World Cup, I was rather bemused.


Be cautious around Two-Seaters, they tend to enjoy unexpected snacks

I needed a new pen for my notebook after misplacing my last one, and decided to get a sandwich. This was another mistake. The smallest Subway made my appetite look pitiful, huge pint sized drinks of pink lemonade beckoned... after 10 minutes searching for a 'British, you know a small sandwich with a little chicken and bread?' I recieved astonished and confused looks, settling in the end for a pink lemonade and the cheapest pen.

As I started scribbling notes, witty ideas, that sort of nonsense down I realised it read 'Don't Mess With Texas' brilliant! Cracking start! Then discovered the pink lemonade was 'uncarbonated', oh well Blitz Spirit and suchlike! People were very friendly but I only managed to keep up morale by listening to some Canadian-Syntho-Rock...

So I sat there and my eyes rested upon TGIF Take Away, I just couldn't work it out...

Hell I still can't, and decided to call this entry closed for now... but naturally that journey was not over just yet...