THE BIG SMOKE

Right, so I’m off to The Big Smoke right now, for the glorious business of work. I even get the unimaginable opportunity to be seated, not only in the same flying tin can as The Boss, but actually next to him this time. Apparently working a 50hour week is not enough for said man and the 2 hours that I would ordinarily BE SLEEPING, now need to be used for additional work purposes. And, not only are we sitting together, we are sitting together in cattle class (he usually travels business and I travel with the chickens and goats), he has downgraded to sit with a mere worker!! Seriously, I was under the impression that life was all about upgrading, yes? Damn did I go wrong somewhere…? So anyway, here I sit typing away at what looks like a rather extensive email to the man whose eyesight is about as good as an eighty year old man, blindfolded, walking around in the dark without a walking stick. See where I’m going here… if I’m going to have to be awake at some ungodly hour, by george, am I going to do something I enjoy during that time (and considering running up and down the aisle of the plane seems to irritate fellow passengers if you’re on the wrong side of 5, I’ve settled for organising my Crazii thoughts on paper).

(oh also, just as a side note to Shiny, I notice I have coveted your Big Smoke term, which I actually sneakily stole from a mate of mine who I assume coveted it for you… so apologies, it’s a wonderful description of Jozi, can I keep it???).

I have also left my book at home, hence the muddled thoughts and possible irritation in my voice. I always have a book with me; flying just doesn’t seem right without one. It’s the same as if you get good food on the plane; it’s weird and usually indicates something very bad is going to happen. It’s like the universe is saying I’m going to make your last meal great so at least your colon and large intestine die happy. Ordinarily when I see my fellow passengers eating without the obligatory gulp to get the rubber eggs down, I push my food aside and start chewing the corners of my paperback, thereby fooling the universe into sparing me as my internal organs have not yet given the thumbs up for their future resting place. Now I’m stumped. I may have to resort to eating the BA magazine, but that just feels wrong. I’m trying to cheat the universe, not deprive fellow passengers for the entertainment value only highlife can give… Some help here please???

Trolley Dolly: Ma’am, are you done with that?
ME: That depends…
TD: Ummm, depends on what?
ME: How many magazines you have aboard the plane.
TD: Ummm, I suppose we have one for every passenger?
ME: No extra?
TD: We may have an old copy somewhere in the back?
ME: Perfect. In that case, yes I’m done. Can I please have a cup of tea, 2 sugars and March’s issue of Highlife?
TD: But you haven’t touched your food?
ME: I know, sneaky of me isn’t it!
TD: (Confused look) Right, can I ask why you would need March’s issue when April’s is in the seat pocket in front of you.
ME: Well if would be rude to eat the current issue, nobody reads tatty mags, especially one’s that have been used as a breakfast meal.

At this point, the surrounding 3 rows of seats on either side of me are all looking at me and the Trolley Dolly with surprise and humour.

TD: SORRY?!?! You are going to eat March’s issue of Highlife.
ME: Nibble really, safer than the bran and raison muffin, I can see it’s in cahoots with the universe. It’s basically winking at me it’s so sneaky!
Man in row 8a: Wow I gotta see this (nudges his neighbour). Dude that Ginger over there is going to eat a magazine…
ME: I’m not going to eat the whole thing, just enough to keep me sane until we land.
MIR8a: I don’t think sanity is really the issue here! I’ll give you R50 to see this?
ME: What?
Man in Row 11b: I’m in too, here’s my R50.
ME: Really, you guys will pay me to fool the universe into thinking I’m not yet ready to push up daisies?
MIR11b: Ya, ummm, whatever you said… so you gonna eat the mag or what?

Needless to say I made a R100 bucks and all I had to do was ignore the seductive calls of the cheese omelette and bran muffin.

Universe: 0 – Crazii: 1
Right, gotta go, something about landing and chilly weather. Wish me luck, The Big Smoke and I have a love hate relationship. I hate the place and it loves to see me leave!