A few days on the wagon will do wonders or not for the creativity but here is:
Part 12
Wobbling from my seat I grasp at the seat in front of me. The combination of Vodka Dom’s has really kicked in and I’m feeling better than fabulous. I apologise sweetly to the nice lady in the seat in front who is scalding me like a matron schoolmistress while busily fixing her hair that is in a precarious twist and in grave danger of falling off – a wig perhaps and I concur with myself once I realise that her eyebrows are non-existent and there but for the sake of Max Factor brow pencil. In a moment of sharing, I warn her of the dangers of the Velcro strip holding the head napkin in place behind her head. Walking off I believe I salvaged a possibly difficult moment for her and a frightful shock for her fellow passengers. Feeling well pleased I forge on determined to explore the mightiness of this Aerobus. A discrete wood panel door opens before me and I see ahead, a galley and seating beyond.
A hive of activity is happening before me with crewmembers busily clearing away the wreckage of dinner. An argument appears to be in play over the leftovers of what appears to be chicken pasta with cheese sauce. Ribald comments are passing as the two busily snatch at the remnants. “AA” or “FA” I wonder as the two busily scoff at the carcass that are “the leftovers”. My presence remains unnoticed until another crewmember appears from the cabin beyond. Jim Cusa looks at me and the commotion of the galley and rushes in theatrically in an effort to alert his fellow crewmembers. Silence breaks out, as my presence is now apparent. Jim looks at me, his head at a peculiar angle as if he has water in his ear. I discover that “AA” is less than generous with staff meals resulting in the bickering commotion before me.
“Good evening sir, may I help you?’ He says.
“Just stretching my legs, a cocktail would be nice.” I say, feeling advantage is mine in this set.
Obviously chastised, all three rush into action in an effort to accommodate my request. The other crew are Jon Garfield, a portly chap with a vacant expression and Jessica Prim, a lass from Cisco, eager for rent relief, or relief of any kind as becomes apparent later. Afterwards, I discover they work “J” or “the business classes” and were perhaps chosen for their “J” rather than merit. My cocktail is ready, resplendent with pineapple garnish and maraschino cherry, presented by the attendants like a row of naughty school children. I am reminded of the time Mother had friends for a “Darts Evening”. All the gentlemen wore short pants and held aloft Cherries in obedience as they were called one by one into her “office” for discipline.
At first, conversation is a little stilted but I engage them with my story, aware perhaps that such discipline has forgone these characters and that perhaps their salvation is in a humble apple and a willingness to submit to the refined dignity and worldly experience of a true master of social interaction. Unfortunately I was never allowed to visit Mother on such evenings but would peer across the hallway as each of her disciples entered and later emerged, empty handed from her chamber with a chastened expression and an exchange of cash with those remaining in the line. Curious behaviour but then Mother was normally “Flushed” with funds following such evenings and would order a complete makeover of her chambers the following day.
My audience were entranced by my story and afterwards I felt a sense of accomplishment at having calmed such a primitive situation. I had entered the galley on a scowling, primitive moment and enlightened them with a simple story of offering, acceptance and a well-placed target. My scholarly juices aroused, I decide it’s time to perhaps take a class in the business section and match my talents with the offerings of this evening’s tutorial.
Jessica looks slightly perplexed at my request but after composing herself with a tissue after my story (a life-changing effect I consider), she shows me to an empty seat and enquires weather I would like another cocktail. Seldom one to drink whilst learning the finer points of academia, I decline and Jessica bows away still wiping her eyes at her enlightenment. I take my seat next to a pretty Australian Woman wearing an Akubra hat resplendent with dangling corks – Nelly Mobbs is her name.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Jan 29, 2004).]