By now reader you should be building a picture of me, the Grumpy Man. So how can even I be Grumpy at any point during a holiday to Bali. As you saw from my previous missive, rather easily but that was a general overview. Let us become a little more specific.
Picture the scene, you have checked in with your airline and you are deposited by a very nice and attentive member of the airline staff into your premium lounge. The view is nice, the champagne cold and the food tasty. All is well you would say until you realise that the zoo has left the door open of the chimpanzee cage again.
What do you mean, I hear you cry…. well all I will say is 5 Americans on free booze. To be honest with the mental picture you have now imagined I could end this blog entry right now and I would have made my point, but then my spleen wouldn’t be truly vented.
Not that I am not averse to anyone having drinks pre flight nor chatting and having a good time with their friends or travelling companion. Thats all part of the fun of travelling. But if you allow for the fact that I was sitting 5 metres away from the chimps tea party behind a 1 metre thick column please remember that not only could i hear every word that they said , I could also hear the burping, snorting and the very sound of their limited number of brain cells rubbing together.
As they spoke each member of this inbred science experiment got louder and louder to be heard over the rest of the muppets. One gentleman revelled in the fact that, after his second wife left him (he was in his early thirties by the way), his friends were amazed how many women he was apparently having sex with. I think he had himself down as the alpha male of the group, although that wouldn’t have been saying much to be honest. The solo female of the group was no better and was definitely playing for the attention of the 4 men with a generic mixture of flirty compliments towards the men and espousing how amazing she was despite what her ex husband thought of her (kinda spotting a theme here). Add to the mix the random injections of the word ‘f@ck’ and ‘f@cking’ by both genders randomly during the discussions, not forgetting laughter which wouldn’t have been out of place coming from the Wicked Witch of the West … you can start to see why I became a little ‘perturbed’.
Fortunately for me, I was not the only grumpy person in the room. Other residents of this lounge included fellow Brits, a German and several Indonesian ladies – who were the most horrified of us all.
The crunch point came when ‘alpha male’ egged on by the ‘Wicked Witch’ decided that pre flight shots would be a ‘f@cking awesome idea’, so as all good English men do, I decided I should take action but the problem was what action to take. A strongly worded letter would have the correct effect but would take too long. Dealing directly with the alcoholic toddler group would be lowering oneself to say the least and one is never sure how pissed colonials will behave when challenged directly in front of one of their females. So i opted for the safer middle ground of delegation. I mean if you have ‘staff’ why not use them and in this case a neutral party was probably more likely to be listened to.
I informed the staff of the problem and to their credit they were actually waiting for someone to complain so that they could take action. Supposedly they cannot tell anyone who is behaving like drunken chavs to behave unless someone makes a complaint.
Gratifyingly, a quick but firm word from the lounge staff did have the desired effect on the now drunken monkeys and to their credit they were apologetic. However, as soon as the staffs’ back was turned they alpha male of the group bemoaned his lack of ability to express his male virility as loudly as he wanted.
Fortunately for all, before the group could return to their infantile behaviour, the Neanderthals were called forward to their flight, but not before necking their shots. I almost felt sorry for the cabin crew on that Delta flight to New York as they were about to spend the next 6.5hrs listening to a live action Jerry Springer episode at full volume.
As I have asked already, how do you know there is an American in the room? sadly the answer, especially if there is more than one and booze involved you will be damn painfully aware of their presence. One parting shot though, even these drunken monkeys agreed on one thing….that Donald J Trump was an idiot.
Realist and Life Weary Soul of the UK
Purveyor of Dubious Wisdom
A Reveller in Grumpiness
Tags: Cultural Holiday Leisure Tourism Travel