16 Apr 2011

And Then There Was A Glass Disaster….

It was good to see, in these time of financial constraints, an absolutely jam packed long haul flight, with a final destination, not my destination, of Bali.

A pretty hum drum sort of a flight other than, in the early stages of the journey, having one of those, ‘It only EVER happens to ME.’ Moments.

The meal, I had the pasta for the five hundredth time, was served and from the extensive wine list on offer, a very small bottle of a red one or a very small bottle of a white one, I chose a very small bottle of the red one. I allowed it to breath for the required time, the time it took me to unscrew the top, then decanted half the bottle into the flimsy plastic ‘glass’ provided.

All looked well as he sat there doing further breathing. Sadly all was not well. The quite substantial split in the glass was undetectable while he sat and breathed, but the moment slight hand pressure was applied the split opened. This happened as I lifted the glass from the foldy down table towards my eager mouth and the entire contents came gushing out in a heart beat.

I’ll see if you can get the correct answer to this bit; did the majority of the contents end up on the foldy down table or in my lap? Well, seems you all got that one right then.

What to do? What I did was cover my wet area with that little lumpy white thingy they give you on planes. There’s a name for them which eludes me right now. The air lines call them pillows. Then I waited ‘till the cabin crew finished telling bed time stories over the PA system and the cabin lights had slowly dimmed to off.

Once all was still, with not a soul stirring, I bobbed my head into the galley, got a couple of cans of soda water {I know about the soda water trick from a previous adventure} and spent what seemed like half the flight in the toilet attempting a clean up.

Just a word of warning to you, should you ever find yourselves in a similar situation, there are only paper towels available in aeroplane chokies. The secret with these is to dab, don’t rub. Rubbing results in the ‘cleaned’ area, when it dries, looking like it’s been used as an ash tray for a week. Dab, don’t rub.

The end result was not too shabby. Not too good, but not too shabby. As a rough guide to the not too shabbyness of the clean-up, when I checked in at the hotel I was not asked if I’d like the use of the rubber mattress cover for the bed. Or if I needed to see a doctor.

However, at reception I was asked, “Please take a seat.” Not sure I’ll bother as I imagine the cost of getting it home could be quite substantial don’t you think?

Quote; John Taylor.

“The only man who really needs a tail coat is a man with a hole in his trousers.”

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