Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Airport Shaving - Philishave Regret

I was walking down to gate 43, halfway along the narrow, crowded, airbus pier in foggy Stansted airport, scowling and checking my watch like there was a snake up my sleeve. Some days I'd sit and watch how girls position their handbags when they sit, or how men stare when their girls leave them to browse. But today wasn't a day for watching. I wanted a shave and I wanted it now.

Bzzzz. Having a shave in an airport, like any public faux pas, makes you feel both rude and important. Having finished my beard I decided to continue, that is, to shave the rest of my head as well. Not only would I be more shiny upstairs, but I'd also be sticking it to Time, Destiny and any other incarnations of the Short Haul Pantheon.

It was only when the motor for my Philips Coolshave sizzled into defeat that I realised I'd made a bad call. Batteries.

Now it was time to make it look like I'd done it on purpose. I made some washing gestures, took a hat from my bag, and exited the bathrooms.

Bing. Bong. This is final boarding call for all stoopid, impatient retards on flight FR155 to Dublin. Please make sure you learn all lessons before embarking and have your pride ready for inspection at the gate.

DIARIT: 3/10

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