My Flying Nirvana
'What's in that?' asked the Kid as I took a decent slug on my first bottle of Bacardi and coke.
'She ain't just fizzy pop. Want a go?'
'I think I can wait till we hit Heathrow. You some kinda desperado?'
'No, just a bit of a nervous flyer, that's all. Helps me find my flying nirvana.'
'You speak a hell of a lotta shit Doddo, you know that?'
'So.'
By the time we hit Heathrow I was two thirds of my way through that first bottle and before I popped my pack on a trolley for the short push to check-in I necked the rest.
'So what's the plan Goran? Drop off the bags then hit the sky lounge?' I asked, already knowing the answer.
'Why not.' The Kid replied, and then added, 'Have you noticed that we always kill time drinking?' I nodded. 'Why is that? I mean, we're grown adults, we're not trying to impress each other, why not just go for a soft drink or a burger?'
'You can go for whatever you want, I'm off to the boozer hippy. And just to remind you, we are currently in an airport on our way to the biggest drinking binge in the world. This ain't no Fanta-fest, we're talking beer-fest. We're talking big, fuck off steins of lager and plenty of 'em. We're talking thousands of people congregating for one reason and one reason alone. To get totally shed-faced on the amber nectar, to celebrate beer and everything beery. So go find a mirror my friend, time to take a good hard look. Then when you're finished, get yourself a stiff drink. Better still, make it two.'
'Easy Tiger, just making an observation. You should be the one worried about this weekend. Wont be no girly drinks where we're going.'
'Think I'll be right.'
'You better be.'
