it the fat people have to sit up the front?’ doing her best to wind up Parker and Anna.
‘Well,’ said Jeff, ‘the plane would never get off the ground if we got the weight wrong. And that goes for your baggage too.’
Looking at the size of Maddie’s bulging case I did my best to put a smile back on Parker’s face. ‘Eh, it looks like you’re carrying a few extra pounds yourself there, missus. You might have to leave some of your non-essentials behind.’
‘Non-essentials!’ screamed Maddie. ‘The only thing non-essential about this trip is your bad karma. I wouldn’t be worrying about my baggage, hon, but trying to shed some of your own.’
Without giving me time to answer Jeff had ceremoniously ushered us and our luggage on to scales at a nearby Portakabin, throwing his eyes up to heaven at the sight of our bags.
‘You’re allowed 34 pounds excess weight per person,’ he explained.
Still feeling super-skinny, Maddie joked, ‘So where are we going to squeeze Parker’s ego?’
‘Probably on a roof-rack alongside yours, dear,’ squealed Parker. Realizing he had let his butch image slip, he straightened his shoulders and declared, ‘If any of the girls are over I don’t mind leaving some of my stuff behind. I don’t mind travelling light.’
The luggage safely on board, we girls peeked our heads back out of the Portakabin to see if we could spot a plane that looked safe enough to travel in.
When the other pair joined us they were happily laughing; no doubt Parker had made some crude comment along the lines that the only package Jeff needed to take was the package between his trousers!
Resuming his headmaster role Jeff led us like sheep to the slaughter, steering us in the direction of the small runway and a tiny plane. Indicating the toy-like trinket, he said, ‘OK guys, this is us. Meet Florence.’
In unison we went, ‘Huh?’
‘This is my plane,’ he explained, ‘I call her Florence after my grandmother. She was an exceptional woman. And this is just a beautiful plane.’
Parker leaned into me and whispered, ‘You see. I bring out the homo in him.’ But I didn’t see the humour. I was staring at the smallest plane I’d ever seen. And fear had gripped my body.
Wanting to yell out, ‘I want my mammy’, I hesitantly pulled Jeff on the arm and asked, ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, oblivious to my anxiety. ‘OK, everyone, all aboard,’ Jeff instructed us. ‘We’ve got a fifteen-minute window. Maddie and Eva in the back, Anna in the middle with Parker.’
With that Maddie rudely blurted out, ‘I can’t get in that. It’s a tin can with propellers.’
‘She’s never failed me before,’ offered Jeff, looking a tad hurt.
‘But … but, didn’t JFK Junior and his missus die in a little plane like this?’
‘Yes, well, kind of. Theirs was a smaller make, though,’ said Jeff. ‘It was only a single propeller plane. If you look at this baby, it’s got twin propellers. Plus I don’t come from a famous cursed family. So we’ll be fine. Now hop in.’
Not wanting to have a fall-out before the weekend even started, Parker took control of the deteriorating situation and with one of his stern looks, motioned to us with his eyes to climb on board.
Unsure if we were more scared of Parker or of the thought of plummeting to our death in an aviation tragedy, we stuffed ourselves and our bags inside the plane, in stony silence.
Far from Concorde, Florence was more like an early Elvis number with its baby blue velvet seats, blue carpet and matching side panels. Parker did his best Austin Powers impersonation with a loud, ‘Yeah, baby!’ It failed to lift my mood.
After all, I’d already been slapped in the face at the Four Seasons. Oh, how a plane crash would just finish off my decadent disaster of a day.
Settling into our taxi with wings, wedged in like sardines, some young fella looking no more than eighteen hopped in the front beside Jeff and
‘Well,’ said Jeff, ‘the plane would never get off the ground if we got the weight wrong. And that goes for your baggage too.’
Looking at the size of Maddie’s bulging case I did my best to put a smile back on Parker’s face. ‘Eh, it looks like you’re carrying a few extra pounds yourself there, missus. You might have to leave some of your non-essentials behind.’
‘Non-essentials!’ screamed Maddie. ‘The only thing non-essential about this trip is your bad karma. I wouldn’t be worrying about my baggage, hon, but trying to shed some of your own.’
Without giving me time to answer Jeff had ceremoniously ushered us and our luggage on to scales at a nearby Portakabin, throwing his eyes up to heaven at the sight of our bags.
‘You’re allowed 34 pounds excess weight per person,’ he explained.
Still feeling super-skinny, Maddie joked, ‘So where are we going to squeeze Parker’s ego?’
‘Probably on a roof-rack alongside yours, dear,’ squealed Parker. Realizing he had let his butch image slip, he straightened his shoulders and declared, ‘If any of the girls are over I don’t mind leaving some of my stuff behind. I don’t mind travelling light.’
The luggage safely on board, we girls peeked our heads back out of the Portakabin to see if we could spot a plane that looked safe enough to travel in.
When the other pair joined us they were happily laughing; no doubt Parker had made some crude comment along the lines that the only package Jeff needed to take was the package between his trousers!
Resuming his headmaster role Jeff led us like sheep to the slaughter, steering us in the direction of the small runway and a tiny plane. Indicating the toy-like trinket, he said, ‘OK guys, this is us. Meet Florence.’
In unison we went, ‘Huh?’
‘This is my plane,’ he explained, ‘I call her Florence after my grandmother. She was an exceptional woman. And this is just a beautiful plane.’
Parker leaned into me and whispered, ‘You see. I bring out the homo in him.’ But I didn’t see the humour. I was staring at the smallest plane I’d ever seen. And fear had gripped my body.
Wanting to yell out, ‘I want my mammy’, I hesitantly pulled Jeff on the arm and asked, ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, oblivious to my anxiety. ‘OK, everyone, all aboard,’ Jeff instructed us. ‘We’ve got a fifteen-minute window. Maddie and Eva in the back, Anna in the middle with Parker.’
With that Maddie rudely blurted out, ‘I can’t get in that. It’s a tin can with propellers.’
‘She’s never failed me before,’ offered Jeff, looking a tad hurt.
‘But … but, didn’t JFK Junior and his missus die in a little plane like this?’
‘Yes, well, kind of. Theirs was a smaller make, though,’ said Jeff. ‘It was only a single propeller plane. If you look at this baby, it’s got twin propellers. Plus I don’t come from a famous cursed family. So we’ll be fine. Now hop in.’
Not wanting to have a fall-out before the weekend even started, Parker took control of the deteriorating situation and with one of his stern looks, motioned to us with his eyes to climb on board.
Unsure if we were more scared of Parker or of the thought of plummeting to our death in an aviation tragedy, we stuffed ourselves and our bags inside the plane, in stony silence.
Far from Concorde, Florence was more like an early Elvis number with its baby blue velvet seats, blue carpet and matching side panels. Parker did his best Austin Powers impersonation with a loud, ‘Yeah, baby!’ It failed to lift my mood.
After all, I’d already been slapped in the face at the Four Seasons. Oh, how a plane crash would just finish off my decadent disaster of a day.
Settling into our taxi with wings, wedged in like sardines, some young fella looking no more than eighteen hopped in the front beside Jeff and
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