'You should try drinking heaps of spirits, works for me.' I said in a wise, wise tone.
'Each to their own Doddo. Doesn't really work for me.'
'What does?'
'Well, nothing yet. I'll be right, just wont feel real great until I've got my feet back on the ground.' Well this was a revelation and in a wicked kind of way it made me feel all the more at ease.
'Heaps of spirits doesn't make it worse though, right? I mean you will have a drink on the plane, they're free you know.'
Minutes passed.
The Kid shifted uneasily in his seat and slowly sipped his pint, one eye on the departures monitor and one ear on the rabble I was now spinning.
'Statistically...' I began anew, before being rudely interrupted.
'I don't want to hear statistics Doddo. I know about statistics. It's just not right that's all. If God have wanted man to fly...'
'...he'd have given us thrusters? Thanks Captain Cliché. Change of subject required me thinks. So, where are we going to stay tonight? It'll be pushing midnight by the time we hit Munich.'
'Yeah, I thought about that. We can always sleep in a park or at the airport. You've got your sleeping bag haven't you?'
'Yeah but I won't be sleeping in no park. What about snipers?'
'What about 'em?'
'Nothing.'
'Look, let's just play it by ear. See what's on offer when we get there.'
'Right, by ear it is.'
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