Part 1. Noooo York and the flight QF 107

“You know what it’s like when you are the last person to board, there are 500 grumpy pricks staring hatefully at me, stuff em, I go on the attack.”

Bludog here, I’m off to New York to visit Tempting Alice, We will be joined by Big D and the Oakey Princess. Big D and I are related to Alice, which is a fact that we don’t generally publicise. However we are family and when Alice invited us over, we thought why not, especially when she went on about special whiskey and cigar bars, sports and gambling.

My trip didn’t start that well, my Sydney flight was delayed and I was relaxing at the bar of the Qantas lounge when I hear that familiar announcement ” last and final call for Mr. Bludog”. I down my beer and order a roadie, which I drink while walking casually to Gate 9… If you run at an airport, you are likely to get shot.

You know what it’s like when you are the last person to board, there are 500 grumpy pricks staring hatefully at me, stuff em, I go on the attack ” I’m not sorry for being late, I have been knocking back a few coldies at the bar, which is much better than sitting and waiting with you lot”. The hateful stares are white hot but not a word of reply.

Bludog 1 Flight QF 107 nil.

I get to my seat and the guy next to me is of Middle eastern appearance and he is wearing a thick coat. The temperature on the plane is hot and humid with the body odour of 500 people scenting the air. My terrorist alarm is screaming but the effects of the session at the Qantas lounge take effect and I fall asleep before we leave the ground.
I wake up about 15 minutes into the flight. The woman in the opposite row is already taking up the aisle doing hamstring stretches, knee bends and ab crunches. She has a huge arse… makes Venus Williams’ butt look like a pimple. I can’t see anything in the plane other than her huge butt. If we hit turbulence and she lands on me, I may never be found.
I’m not sure about the guy next to me, he is either praying to Allah or he has passed out in a slumped position and the coat is till on.
The rest of the flight passes without incident. Turns out the suspected terrorist next to me is a prawn fisherman from Cairns called Bruce. Being a boy from the tropics he wears a thick coat whenever the temperature goes below 34 degrees Celsius (90 degrees Farenheit). Have to do something about my racial profiling…it’s not an exact science.

New York here we come…I can hear Frank Sinatra already.

Bludog (trendy blog name)

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