Well the great trip around the North-West corner of North America has finally arrived; somehow this trip has taken more planning than the trip round the world that started this reportage (and is costing enormously more).
He has, in homage to the great trip, insisted on taking his rucksack on all his other trips and this one is to be no exception. By some genius he found that a bag that got him round the world somehow was too small for all the stuff needed for a mere two weeks away and so has only taken enough stuff for one week. We pity poor Gay George (Not Actually Gay) suffering with the stench by the end.
What with his skis as well and the new tiny car there was no prospect of getting it all in and with an early morning start to get to Heathrow (after his Valentine’s supper (passim)) he found himself at 0445 trying to tie his rucksack onto the boot-rack. Of course as could be expected a second rate (that high?– ed) job was done and as he motored around the demonic expressway (shurely the M25?- ed) his glances in the rear view mirror became more desperate as the ropes slowly untied themselves.
Sadly the rucksack did not fall off and so he has actually got some kit to go skiing in.
Having parked up he received a text from Gay George (Not Actually Gay) to inform him that the queue was enormous which is certainly a good way to deflate a man’s spirit but having made his way to the terminal he was pleasantly surprised to find himself at the United desks with no queue in sight. He was less pleasantly surprised to find no Gay George (Not Actually Gay) in sight either.
Working on the assumption that he must have made the mistake rather than Gay George (Not Actually Gay) he explained to the bemused groundstaff that he was just calling his chum to find out where he ought to be. Gay George (Not Actually Gay) was by this time at the front of the queue for American and doubted that he could in all honesty jump in which caused a further sinking of the spirits however, and in a rather surprising and possibly first development, this was swiftly followed by a soaring of the spirits on the realisation that by some unholy miracle it was Gay George (Not Actually Gay) who was in error; his excuse “well we were flying to America so I just assumed it would be American Airlines” is a touch lame, presumably when he flies with the charter carrier Monarch he thinks he is flying to see the Queen.
From your correspondent’s perspective if Gay George (Not Actually Gay) has been infected with a level of buffoonery only usually seen by our subject then this promises to be a very fertile trip indeed.
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