Rear View
Phil Kay
Plane sailing in mid-air
he thing about long term parking in Prestwick
Airport is that you have to take your ticket with you
on your journey. ()therwise. on return. you have to cotne all the way back to the car from the terminal and collect your ticket then go back to pay then come back again. All this can be the dull extra you don't need when all you want is some friend with a humorous handwritten sign for you and a will to carry your bags. drive you and do the talking for the first 2() minutes until you are ready to begin.
Initially I leave the car key in the door and consider letting it remain there because who is going to nick a car that they have to walk all the way back to the terminal to get a ticket for and walk here again? It would be easier to fly back in and know it was nicked and buy it back from the guy on the street in Glasgow like a dodgy laptop that was yours already.
I park. take my ticket with me and follow the arrows on the pavement and obey them as they aim me at the terminal and run right over the middle of the big roundabout and diagonally straight through the car park and take a massive leap of faith over a large hedge which I cannot see the other side of.
It‘s with Ryan Air I‘m flying there: we try and care.
Just before I leave I barely have time to convince a friend of mine I bump into to take a look at the Steiner School to see a happy learning experience for children. have a stationery tour of Menzies. befriend with nods two travelling goths and speak to my brother Sam who is playing with liasy Tiger supporting my other brother‘s band the Darkness at King Tut‘s on the 29th. By that I will be with another brother. Chris. deep in the Venezuelan jungle. canoeing down the Orinoco. through to the
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Atlantic.
On entering the plane I see the front row has a spare seat and ask the man if he needs the elbow room and he does a mime with a smile of stretching out. I say I shall have a look up the plane and see if anyone stands out and if not I’ll be back. This is what happens: I go all the way to the back and nobody jumps out so I return and say to the guy: ‘Hi.’ He says he likes to travel quietly. I say you are welcome to try. I say that if you like it you must have done it lots so you maybe should take a break from that. His wife laughs and he ignores me.
I say: ‘Is he ignoring me? No one
By the has been [mly COmPICICIy ignored since
the 20s.‘ His wife laughs again then he
I he touches the arm of the hostess and says: deep in the ‘Can you ask this man to be quiet?‘ So I
leave. Oddly enough. as I take my seat.
Venezuelan the singer from Runrig is looking for an
jungle unreserved seat to be reserved in. I say: ’ ‘Sit here. we can chat.‘ He says: ‘No
canoelng thank. it‘s OK.’ and takes a seat in front with the Record.
That was yesterday. Today I am on
Orlnoco, the beach here in Venezuela with my to brother Chris and funnin enough . exchange more words. gently. with the
the Atlantlc men opening up a basket of oysters for
us in a language I don‘t understand. How do you say: ‘We have just jumped off a massive rock into the ocean and swum to find these oysters with lime juice squeezed on them very tasty and I wish to thank you warmly'? 'G r a c i a s’ apparently covers it.
l Just, «AH-SL1 all
them bloodg kid: would shut up...
I can‘t think whg children have been allowEd in.
HOISIN MCCI ()SKI Y