IdleBones

Thunderbirds.

Some things are certainties.

Car keys are always in the last place you look, coffee always spills on the only white part of your clothing, the turbo charged sports car you hear thundering down the road will always turn out to be a kid in '93 fiesta with a fat exhaust. But only I could miss a plane will working IN the airport it's leaving from. By four hours, no less. To boot, I had actually been spending my time programming in the flight times and details of all the aircraft arriving and departing that airport, including the the flight that I managed to miss. My plane last Friday, left at 1.30pm, without me, as I worked in an office just upstairs from the check in desk. I had decided to use my intuition, believing that it would agree with me that my flight would be at the same time as last week, instead of looking up, and slightly to the left to the departure board silently flashing in red the fact that my flight was now closing. When I came to check in, I was politely told by the pretty Air France clerk that I had actually left hours ago. Stunned, (it took me several moments to reconcile this news with the fact that I was somehow still in London) I was shown to the main Air France desk, where they helpfully moved my ticket to a later flight for 8.45. They took one look at my bedraggeled, sweaty self, and choose this as a good excercise for one of their new desk staff to experience how to help an idiot in trouble. 20 minutes of "press here, Select this, upgrade this, download that", and the odd "no, not many people manage to miss a flight by four hours, but you might as well learn", and I was shifted to a new plane by the one finger typist novice. The flight left 30 minutes late, to add insult to injury, but at least left me feeling somewhat comforted in the thought that at least I wasn't the only one late.

At least it gave me the time to sit outside the terminal watching the planes take off and land for a while. London City  Airport is probably the most entertaining for several reasons:

 Firstly, the runway is bordered on two sides by water. One end of the runway is terminated by more water, and the other by a raised road bridge and then even more water. I began to think that watching these planes land in windy conditions like fat ungainly geese was not the ideal preparation for my own flight.

Secondly, there is only one runway. Therefore, every so often three or more planes of diferent sizes would tear off in tandam the wrong way up the runway to the large turning circle at the watery end, and then turn and take their place, ready  to rip down the tarmac and lift themselves over the road bridge, pausing every second plane or two to thoughtfully let someone else land. After a while it begins to look like a bunch of kids lining up to take running jumps at the river, before hurtling back up the runway for another go.(I could almost hear them crying: Wheeeeeeeee!!!) A strong blustery wind accross the airport made a few of the smaller twin prop aircraft waggle quite violently as they ascended, making them look like baby planes falling from their nests and learning to fly for the first time. I popped to more sticks of chewing gum in my month and realised I was I was clenching my teeth too hard.

Thirdly, just when I began to calm myself and think its safe to go back in the air, the fire department rolled up in three specialised airport engines, looking like Thunderbirds One Two and Three. Out popped Virgil, Brains and Trev and disappeared into the back of one of the trucks. Two minutes later they re-emerged carrying a body by arms and legs, which they carelessly swung, 1,2,3, into the water. I began choking on my chewing gum.

          In the second or two I thought the dummy was actually a body, the notion raced in front of my mind that I was either witness to a particularlly callous murder, and that the Airport was run by the mob, or that the Fire Department had a much harder entrance exam than I'd could ever have imagined. Thankfully, a rescue boat (Thunderbird 4) swept into view and the show (quite a few other people had stopped in their tracks and were also staring nervously at the water, some at the air, waiting for some stricken plane to come barreling out of the skies to the waiting fire engines) was revealed for what it was: a water rescue exercise. You know, just in case your pre-adolesant plane misses the bridge but hits the water. I spat out my gum, regained some colour in my cheeks, and decided to go back into the terminal and try and avoid views of the runway from here on in. 

Unfortunatly, the departure lounge affords a terrific view of the runway from just about anywhere. Some time later I was queuing  for a coffee my attention was drawn, by the turned heads of everyone else in the queue, to the West end of runway, which was casually billowing black smoke. I immediately feared the worst and left the queue to join others at the window to see what was going on. To view the wreckage, if i'm honest.. At the end of the runway, directly under the road bridge, Virgil, Brains and Trev were at it again, trying to put me off flying for life. The Fire Department, obviously noticing my absence outside, had moved onto the next part of the days training. Lighting the Airplane Training  rig and then trying to put it out again. Not usually a problem for me to see this at an airport. Comforting, even, to see that they are training for every eventuallity. It just worried me slightly that they were doing it at the end of a runway. My runway.

I got back in my queue and order two beers. One for me, and one for the former shadow of myself. 

Oh my god!! They've got an Explosive Dogs unit!! 

Oh Wait. thats "Explosives Search Dogs Unit" His jacket was wrinkled. I'm getting too jumpy. The image of  Jack Russels chasing terrorists with: 'Yap, Yap, ....BANG!', went through my mind

1.4.06 01:43