Uncle Jo’s

Bastards 

They're on me already 

It's been what? 

Half an hour since the dull looking chap in the booth stamped my passport with a grunt and a glare

And already they're on me - RyanfuckingAir

I wonder how Joel got on 

His bag had a whole 15 kilos on mine

Like me, he was a keen baggage fair dodger. 

An extra 50 quid for the privilege of bringing my things with me. 

No thank you. 

Scamming bastards 

Coax you in with 50p flights, then neglect to tell you that should your bag be so much as a gram overweight your wallets be a whole half a tonne lighter. 

No thank you very much. 

So the trick 

The game 

The plot

Arrive at gate, close eyes

And wait 

And wait 

And wait 

Till the final call 

Till the final calls final call 

Then jump up and speed to gate and make some noise about a long day and a longer night, make pleasantries and compliment if the moment arises then 

Smile and board 

In truth I thought I was the only one

But there was Joel behind me

Rubbing his eyes 

Shouldering a bag so obviously over the limit it made my modest attempts to conceal a cheeky two kilo surplus look like fucking art. 

"That's got to be what? Two kilos over?" He said with a giggle. More annoying than anything, his arrival sparked anxiety in me. I was no longer at the back of the queue, the rush to close the gate did not end with me, but now with Joel. Would my bag get a twice over? Would the scales come out? Or heaven forbid, the dreaded bag sizer. I made an attempt to let him pass but the flight attendant had already beckoned me over. 

Game time 

Thirty seconds later and I'm walking down the aisle towards the plane. 

Wallet intact

But here he comes bounding behind me  

My nemesis/newbestfriend

"I thought we were both done for then" came his voice in my ear. 

Turning to get a proper look at the man, I see a mess of unwashed hair and a youthful face plagued with over exposure to UV light. Grime and dust was so at home in the many crags and wrinkles that it was hard to separate sun burn from dirt. 

And he stank

Not necessarily a bad stench either 

An odd comforting musk 

Something that triggered long lost childhood memories 

Care free and unburdened, he invited me in with a set of blues 

"Works every time brother" I reply. "Happy to see a fellow enthusiast. Looks like you're quite the expert" 

I nod at his pack. 

"Thank you. I've had a lot of practice"

We board the plane and as chance would have it, we're sitting next to eachother. 

Now, I'm a keen in flight meditator. 

I take the crippling restriction as an opportunity to look inwards and move forwards. 

Not Joel. 

Joel, it fast became apparent, talks 

Is happy to talk 

Likes it 

No fuck that 

Adores it 

I dare say he lives for it 

The man wouldn't shut up if you stuffed his grid with lead 

Sewed his kisser up with steel wool and begged for silence

Still

I don't mind 

It's a nice backdrop 

And an opportunity to practice open eyed meditation

Feel the burn of dehydrating peepers and let the mind feel ease 

Silence 

Till there's not

We're coming down to land and announcements are made

And old matey here is pranging about the post flight baggage inspectors 

Yeah right I say 

Post flight baggage inspectors? Don't be daft. Don't be stupid 

There no such thing 

Joel claims there is

"Ryanair man, they lose a couple million a year from folk like us. If we paid our way they'd be quids in, but we don't, so they're not"

I don't care 

Why would I 

Fucking Ryanair 

So what if they don't make another couple mill

I dare say it'll hurt me more to pay than it would them if I don't 

So I laugh 

Take in his grin

I can see he feels the same

"Still, watch your back mate. I've had a few encounters with them. They only employ them in relatively sketchy places. You know the countries where bribing a cop ain't a novelty. Where a few over inflated notes between strangers soon makes a friend. Ryanair pays them a commission on any fair skippers they find. Can earn quite a bit of coin too. Up to 30% of the adjusted fair. You think it's expensive paying for it pre flight. Just wait till that post flight l transaction lights up your HSBC. Yeeeeesh" 

I shrug him off. I don't care. 

Nor do I think he's telling the truth

He's not the most trustworthy looking of fellows 

Bet he could do with that commission 

Perhaps he's the very evil he warns me against

The plane lands and we part ways 

Through passport control and out the other side 

Without so much as a goodbye l, good luck fellow travel 

Nope 

None of that 

I'm out of there 

But I'll admit, he's got me thinking 

As I left the plane the hostess was taking a keen look at me 

The passport control wasn't uninterested in my being there either

But very fucking curious 

He asks me my reason for travel

To which I nod and smile and say HOLIDAY very loudly 

But his eyes shrink 

And squint at me from behind the glass 

Suspicious 

Untrusting 

He asks how long I'm here for and looks at my bag 

I reply with facts 

To which he grunts and stamps 

That's right 

You grunt and stamp 

That's what you're there for 

Grunting and stamping

Question me will you...

Still, I don't want to ruin my mood 

So onwards it is 

A quick glance behind tells me Joel is gone already Obviously he had EU passport rights and passes through quicker than I

Relief is felt 

Peace will once again be mine

HA!

So I thought 

My minds racing 

Running away with the idea of post flight baggage inspectors 

It's a ridiculous idea 

Surely not legal 

Surely not profitable 

But still

I can't not think about it

Post flight baggage inspectors

Ridiculous 

But then again 

This is Ryanair 

Robbing bastards would pull any stunt for a quick quid 

A fast buck 

Thinking about it

This wouldn't be beneath them at all 

Sly as they are 

Then I get to thinking about it some more 

I wouldn't mind that gig 

Post flight baggage inspector

Quite the ring to it 

Bet they'd be keen for flexibility 

See the world 

Inspect some bags 

"Sorry sir/madam/mate/love(delete as applicable)" I'd say to the inspectees as they hop skip and jump out of passport control and towards the gates

"Sorry to bother you, almost there and all that. It's just I'm with RyanAir you see and there was a discrepancy with your booking, that's likely in your favour. If you'd like to come with me and we can see if we can sort this out" 

Then off we'd go to a check in desk

Winner winner - they'd think

Chicken fucking dinner

Holidays started and I'm gonna get some reddies back

Count me in 

"Yeah so we've had some system errors and it's possible there's some money owed. Just pop your bag on that there if you like" I'd point to the scales. "Just remind me your name again?... Lovely here this time of year isn't it... Been here a couple weeks now... Yeah yeah... Oh it's lovely... Tell you what, there's a gorgeous little cafe/bar/restaurant/strip club round the corner... Yeah no shouldn't be too long now, just getting your booking up here and...£250. Wow. That's a lot isn't it. Yeah no, congratulations us I guess... Us? Well your bags over the weight limit there pal. Your booking only covered the standard 10kg free hand luggage and that right there is 10.6kg"

I'm lost it seems

Disappeared in the shadows of fantasy 

Mind Gonzo Washington 

Away with all those damn fairies 

Free flowing consciousness granted unadulterated access to my focus

And in it's stead, I've pressed on 

But where have I pressed on to?

Lost in the mind and lost in the place

My eyes do not recognise where my legs have wondered

So consumed with this planted idea was I that my original plan was left behind entirely 

I was to leave the airport 

Taxi it to Unkle Jo's for a how's your mother with Zoidichenka

Entice him into a drinking marathon 

And pickle my body blind till I'm vomiting bile and cursing my past self for agreeing to the whole thing

So where am I? 

Like most airports, this airport is situated far from anything of interest

And I've found myself in an industrial estate 

Abandoned entirely bar one occupied building

A brewery

And it's open no less

Bloody lovely stuff

I tell me what 

Heres the plan 

Pop in head

See if all is well

Sink an ale 

Bell ol' matey

Inform of lateness due to wondering

Sink another ale 

Bell taxi from brewery 

Arrive at Unkle Jo's...

Well I know the rest 

Wham bam thank you mam

So up I walk 

And in I go

Trap Door brewing was its name 

Classic brewery decor was it's game 

But there was beer and there was a place to sit

Lovely jubbly 

Beers not half bad

Neither am I to be fair 

Haven't thought about those post flight baggage inspectors for a while 

Well I hadn't

Balls

I wonder if they're here

Surely not 

Not a tourist in site

Pure locals gaff by the looks of it

All of them sat around one table 

Drinking 

Chatting 

Living 

So beer it is 

I approach the barman and interrupt him from his scrolling. 

"Not interrupting am I?" 

He looks at me all blank like

So I point to a tap and smile

He obliges and pours as I make a joke about the state of modern brewing

To which he stares and points at a card machine

Clearly barriers of linguistics are impeding our progress so I tap my plastic and take a corner seat

Stay out the way 

Call taxi 

Call Zoid

Or was it the other way round 

Never mind 

Taxi it is 

Some quick web browsing finds me a number and the big green button is hit

"Hello mate, could do with a taxi from Trap Door to Unkle Jo's, pronto like"

I'm hit with a barrage of unrecognisable gibberish and the language barrier strikes again

The red button is given a tap before a more convenient taxi app is opened

But there's no cars 

Clearly the silicon tentacles are yet to find roots here

A blessing for local taxi ranks 

A curse for an illiterate traveler like me 

Their long term gain does not mitigate the sour resentment I'm harbouring over my short term loss

Still, no matter, I've a super computer in my hand and translation is but a tap away 

So in go my words and outcome the right ones and back to the barman to refill and ask a favour

"Hello mate, have a look here will you please and thank you" - I say, putting my phone in his face

He reads and nods and retrieves his own phone and dials numbers and calls and speaks and holds five fingers up to me which I take denote the amount of time there was till my taxi arrives and hope the digits represent minutes not hours but a man is hopeful

And hopeful remains as attentions are turned to the cellar cold foamer before me 

One 

Two 

Three 

And it's gone

Lovely jubbly 

Yes please Mr landlord 

Another one of them if you don't mind

More plastic is tapped and I move myself outside to await my ride

A decision marred by the nights chill 

And dreary landscape 

In truth I wish I'd stayed inside

But I can't go back now 

That would look silly 

So outside I wait 

At least for a minute or two 

Just whilst the ale goes down 

And the nights air is enjoyed 

Chill on the nose 

Bite on the cheeks 

Eastern winds 

For an eastern winter 

Thoughts turn to Unkle Jo's 

To Zoid and his antics 

To the fun to be had 

Oh what unpronounceable bottles of ethanol we'll sink

And what scrapes we'll get in 

A pair of louts louting about as louts do 

Painting the red city red 

Adding our signatures to the array of carnage and hellish delights 

I can see it now 

Oh the depravity 

The fun

The sheer fucking joy of it all

High spirits and low worries 

Dancing and moving 

Sandsnaking our way through the concrete 

Junglists in our own right 

Explorers 

Raiders 

Vagabonds 

Holy men of the highest order 

All of the above 

Who cares 

Oh yes

What holiday it will be

A break well earnt 

A break I'd gladly take if this taxi would... 

And then I hear it 

"You ask taxi?" 

The broken English of my driver 

A hero here to save me 

His head poking out from his metal box

"Yes!" I shout. "I ask taxi!" 

He beckons me over 

So I grab my bag 

Finish my drink 

And make with haste to the open door 

"I take bag" the driver says

I give bag and get through the door and sit and exhale and wait for my mate to assume the position 

To take the wheel and drive on driver

Let's go 

Unkle Jo's! 

"Just one problem friend"

He says from the rear 

What's this

"What's that?"

"It's your bag" he says. "Its overweight"