WARNING. This blog does contain poor grammar, punctuation, spelling, words, jokes and comparisons. If you choose to read on please do so at your own risk.
Monday 26 November. 2012.
So here we are, a magnum in each hand preparing to board and when I say magnum I mean that ever so slightly overpriced choc ice, not a species of handgun. If we had made it through customs with those cocked and ready to go not only would I expect recruitment forms from Lara Croft, Tom Clancy and Judy Dench herself, I would very much reconsider the option to sail.
After marking our territory and constructing our nest Jake and I were settled in 35A & 35B. Before we knew it we discovered that 35C was vacant and up for the grabs. After a moment of silent squealing like when you realize you have seven Jaffa Cakes instead of six we homed in and conquered row 35, a well earned rest was in order.
Once I'd come to terms with the fact that sleep was a near impossible task due to the bellies of many desperate Americans, desperately holding onto the hope that they would find the golden arches somewhere on this vessel, using my big head as a pinata in the process (no, you may not have a Big Mac) I decided to scour the menu deciding whether it was comparable to a bushtucker trial or not. On my third time through I wondered that by chance they'd accidently sat us in business class; "Deep Fried Tiger Prawns captured on the east coast of the Indian Ocean, treated like royalty on the journey to London with a waiter on hand 24/7 just incase they needed a top up of our finest Veuve Clicqout." - 'Why on earth was I not being offered this level of service?' Dinner was then indeed served. You can always tell if you've had a bad meal if you judge each course by the intensity of the sugar levels. Thankfully I'm lucky as a four leaf clover (for all you Nicole X-Factor-pussydog-barbie fans out there... Jake will dislike this) and I'm not diabetic because dear God, would 'Stealth' feel like a humpback bridge compared. It can only be described as a trip to Mr Wonka's Chocolate Factory high on Um Bongo and Tangfastics.
The initial bloodstream rush of fresh sherbet coursing through my veins eventually died down and I managed to catch a quick catnap to the 'soothing' essence of Chandler Bing's wit. Maybe deliberately the series of Friends was uncomfortably out of place as Emirates kindly remixed all of the series into one big jumble viewing.
Waking up fifteen minutes before landing I felt rather like Tony Hawk not having my seatbelt done up even though the light was on, Avril Lavigne another great example as to how rowdy I felt. After she had finished dissecting a Twix with her tongue, thoroughly believing we couldn't see her reflection in the mirror, the air hostess quickly guided us off the plane into the vast limbo that is Dubai airport.
Dubai airport can be summed up in just a few lines, really. Just imagine Heathrow but with food stands only Dubai would possess, Irish crisp sandwhiches, Japanese whipped cream and of course Burger King. Only bit of advice I can give for this location; don't try the haggling technique "Ten pounds for two baguettes?" It doesn't work. The Dubai(ians) couldn't and didn't respond, they just glared at you like you'd offered to bake their cat.
I slept the entire way from Dubai to Bangkok so there literally is nothing to say. I don't even remember take off.
I guess one thing you'll notice with this blog in time is that it's all over the place but hey, enjoy best you can!