Ryanair was always going to provide blogger-fodder. In fact, they´re contractually obliged to do so which is why Michael O´Leary comes up with such delightfully eccentric/shameless money grabbing schemes. Everything was going smoothly (apart from the two Lithuanians the Garda dragged kicking and screaming off our Ulsterbus to the South of Ireland/Free State/former colony delete as appropriate, one of whom pointed desperately at me crying "My wife, my wife" He was so convincing I look down for a wedding ring.
Irish immigraton aside, all was going well until the boarding gate queue. They were checking hand baggage sizes. And mine wouldn´t fit. I knew it wouldn´t fit because I dragged the little metal "Does your bag conform?" sizing thingy out of side of yon Ryanair woman at the check in and spent 5 minutes swearing in gutter Spanish and French. But i have an ace up my sleeve. May all militant feminists from Emmeline Pankhurst to Anne Widdecombe forgive me for what I did next.
He was a big, burly sort. A few unsuccessful pushings and pullings and I look up hopelessly. I hold out a tinfoil wrapped package and say (untruthfully) "I´m sorry. These are the problem. I can take them out if you like."
"Well, what are they? We don´t have all day here."
"They´re my sandwhiches. My mum made them for me."
He´s snookered. The mother of the small family glares at him as Gabriel would at Lucifer. He has to let me though, he´ll be a filthy jobsworth to the entire boarding queue if he doesnt. His shoulders slump in defeat
"Aye, right, right, carry ´em on pet that´s grand."
The force is truly wtih me.
Apart from that, lessee, I led Donal´s Stag Night Magaluf 2011(they all had T'shirts) to Plaza de Cibeles. As they are fond of saying on Radio One, massive shout out to the lads. Especially Rory who had his own tinfoil wrapped sandwiches his wife made. Bless.
Tune in next week, when I am hopefully not typing from an internet cafe in Sol and where the proprietess does not frown when I say "Hay algo...ah...en el...preeenteeeer?" and ask in perfect English "Do you mean printer? Because there is something here"
Oh the holy mortifying shame of it all...
xo
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