Dancing with the Devil on your back

Free at last!

The summer is mine, but not without some last minute observations.  Another latin country and another set of rules ( or lack of them). I was trying out the new easyjet electronic boarding pass system to my mobile phone when I realised that Olbia was not on their list of airports that would accept it.  Expecting to get hammered at the check in, I found a place in the airport that offers office support and they printed the pass for me and charged me just 20 cents for the privilege.  Nice start to the trip.

Next up, Italian pilots.  For years we have heard how bad their driving is but as the plane was taxiing out to the runway, the first officer suddenly jammed on his brakes.  Turns out he was heading to the wrong end of the runway to take off – I always kind of expected pilots to know where they were going.  A quick thrust from the starboard engine and we were heading in the correct direction. I have to give this guy his dues though, the landing at Milan was superbly gentle.

The next morning, I was given the full Italian experience. An airport full of them! Bling and chav’d up to the eyeballs, in fact, dressed like that in England, you would have swore they were pikeys but the best was yet to come.

On the plane, I got my exit seat when a couple of blinged up high society older generation Italian came walking along the aisle.  Now my Italian is not perfect but as the bird got a couple of rows away from me, she was calling to the Steward that I was in her seat.  Obviously she was wrong and her husband promptly corrected her but it lead me into some thoughts about the class system.

Here were two, what I am assuming were upper class old Italians, dressed to the nines, her with more Jewelry than Liberace, it was dripping off her.  In my mind, very poor taste but from what I had seen of Milan airport, it was the norm to look like a pikey.  What then ensued was a flurry of class leveling experiences.

Firstly, you are on easyjet love, no matter how much money your old man has, you are going to be cattle herded just like the rest of us.  No first class here – the best you can manage to show your opulent wealth is paying for an extra leg room seat when your feet hardly touch the floor.

Nº 2 on my class levelling list – no matter how much money you have, the bling dripping off you cannot – I repeat – cannot cover up for the smell of stale piss if you haven’t washed for a couple of day.  B.O. knows no class boundaries – you stink.

Lastly – and this one made me chuckle the most – when on a plane and the person next to you farts – you have to breathe it in just like everyone else.  I figured that I had to deal with her smell for the next hour and a half, she could have a bit of mine.

All classes were finally equal.

But for now, back in Mallorca and resting for a couple of days before the first of several road trips planned for this summer.  8am on Sunday morning I am on the fast ferry to the mainland and then a 10 hour drive to Portugal for a week of surfing, mountain biking, scuba diving, running and walking.  I have the car for the job and will thoroughly enjoy the space and solitude of being completely on my own for the first time in a year.  living on a yacht has its benefits but by christ, you can never find your own space to just be alone.

More inspirational observations soon – I promise

As Florence once said – It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back