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May 16th 2005

I have no recollection of check in, only the vague memory that I had very little time in which to catch my flight.

It’s all a bit of a blur and just how I got past all the airport officials without the aid of extra strong mints is anyone’s guess, but I can only assume that I had drunk myself sober and didn’t breath much.

I shoved my stuff into the overhead compartment trying in vain to keep my balance whilst at the same time trying to wedge any loose straps under my baggage so that they wouldn’t hang down and look untidy when I clunked it shut.

Seeing I was causing somewhat of a hold up in the aisle, I sat myself down on seat 37C next to what I can only describe as a grumpy Arab gnome who had the window seat to the right.

I hadn’t given this contemptuous looking old arseh0le any reason to be disdainful of my presence other than the fact I was young, western and had sat on the seat where he’d previously put his newspaper.

He also made sure my left elbow would get no rest so I made no effort to make any conversation, neither did I make any effort to restrain the methane that had been produced by the evenings consumption of beer, spicy food and hard liquor.

On top of drinking myself sober, I had also been without sleep for so long that I was now unable to, so I started to read the in flight magazine until I felt drowsy, and eventually managed to doze off for a full six minutes before the stewardess asked me if I would like a tea or coffee and if I would be so kind as to remove my legs from the aisle.

I requested a glass of orange juice and a pair of headphones that worked as the ones I had only produced sound from the left speaker, and the earphones for my Discman didn’t have the required two pin plug.

Upon receiving a replacement pair I browsed through the channels several times, flicking through movies that I had either already seen or didn’t want to, or wouldn’t mind watching were they not half way through, so I ended up watching the flight map, looking for subtle changes in the outside air temperature and ground speed until, at long last, the ‘Distance to Destination’ read 60 kilometres and the captain announced between coughs that we were shortly to land at Kuwait International Airport.

An oddly shaped building with no bar, no internet café and no atmosphere, Kuwait Airport is a characterless, beige and magenta halfway house which puts the ‘wait’ in Kuwait; a bland limbo where you feel your body clock is in three separate pieces all over the planet and a place where escalators take you downstairs to the bathroom yet you have to walk up steps to get back, a place where a tasteless slice of sponge cake and a carton of pomegranate juice will cost an unreasonable amount of money that you haven’t got because the currency exchange booth doesn’t deal in Thai baht.

As luck would have it, standing behind me at said booth, a wealthy Omar Sharif look-a-like in a white robe and Yasser Arafat tea-towel, overheard my situation and sympathising with my cause, tapped me on the shoulder and with a smile that wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisted I accept a crisp blue note and make my way to the recently built McCafe over yonder where the trainee cashier took my breakfast order, explaining it would be ready in a few minutes then promptly forgot it the moment I sat down.

After accepting the obsequious apology from the assistant manager I felt I had sufficiently tranquilized my rumbly-tumbly enough to fuel me until my next in-flight meal, and looked for somewhere to have some sort of attempt at sleep.

Kuwait airport is virtually empty at all times so it wasn’t difficult to find a row of empty seats and have a lie down, using my jacket as a pillow and resting an arm on my trolley as a precaution, should one of those mysterious millionaire oil barons decide to steal my clothes and stuff.

My mind was too busy re-winding and playing sequences from the past twelve months to sleep and I found that if I selected the right song on my Discman and could think fast enough, then I could compile an improvised ‘movie trailer’ highlighting the highs and lows of what had been a very eventful year.

When I got bored of this I had a walk around, looking at the half empty shops, one of which was dedicated to Cadbury’s chocolate and another which sold everything from beard trimmers to Saddam Hussein playing cards.

With my change from the Mc Breakfast I almost brought an I LOVE KUWAIT lighter but decided against it as it would have been an outright lie.

Time is a strange concept when travelling from one time zone to another and having to wait at one between.

I was reluctant to look at the clock on the departure board too frequently because the more you look at the time, the more it slows down and I refused to change my watch to Kuwait time because then I would lose my bond with Thailand completely and I would no longer be able to say to myself “Just think, so and so hours ago I was saying my goodbye’s to everybody” or “Just think, they will be waking up with hangovers about now”.

It had been a six hour wait by the time I had emptied my small change into the plastic tray, strolled through the arch miraculously without a beep and stood on the block to have the once over with a Garret stick just to be sure.

I had a window seat on the right side of the plane, and this time I was sharing my row with two of the red tracksuited Indian teenagers that had been wondering around the airport with the rest of their red tracksuited gang and what looked like their football coach.

I was too exhausted to make any more conversation other than to establish that they were going to Manchester to play football, and from that moment I gazed out of the window at the jet blasted grass and sand as we taxied to the main runway and took off.

An hour into the flight my extra drowsy antihistamine pills had failed to send me to sleep so I decided to get drunk and have a few gin and tonics.

This only gave me a severe headache as I was dehydrated as a result of my last night and all the flying itself so I summoned the steward and had a glass of water and managed to get him to leave the bottle with me as I would need at least a litre to re-hydrate myself.

I put a movie on after managing to eventually prise the controller out of the arm rest with my belt buckle, and watched the first half of the second half of the movie I had seen en route to Kuwait until the ‘deluxe’ lunch was served which included the following…

A mushroom omelette

A salad

A bread roll

A sticky bun

Sliced melon

Coffee and fruit juice

Various packets of butter, salt, sugar, salad dressing, powdered milk, plastic cutlery and a toothpick.

The bread roll and the salad were perfectly edible but the melon was a bit on the bland side and the omelette I didn’t even bother with as the smell of it was a fetid cross between boiled socks and burnt cotton.

Egg is one food product that shouldn’t fly unless it’s across a school canteen, fish is another one that as I’ve discovered on past flights doesn’t travel well.

Soon after the meal and just as my film was getting interesting, I needed to use the toilet as all the gin, juice, water and coffee had taken it’s toll on my bladder.

The seat tray in front of me was fully laden with plastic tray, plastic cup, plastic mug, untouched omelette, half eaten melon and sticky bun not to mention all the plastic wrappings, eggy foil and paper sachets and even when retracted I still only had an inch between the edge of the tray and my lap.

The Indian teenage footballers had nodded off to sleep, my seatbelt was too tight and my Discman earphone lead was tangled up in my in-flight headphone lead.

I felt trapped in a way that would have challenged Houdini and it was only when the stewards and ‘desses on rubbish detail reached our row that I was able to flip my tray up, hoist myself onto my seat and vault over the sleeping teens, garrotting myself on my earphones as I did so.

With nothing but socks on my feet I waited only a minute or two to enter the WC which had, to my disgust, a damp floor which I hoped was water shaken from hands.

Naturally the so-far-so-smooth flight decided to become turbulent as I unzipped and took aim and so taking the advice of a sign that lit up above my head, I returned to my row as soon as I was done, and hurriedly attempted to scramble over the sleeping Indians when the plane jolted and my foot slipped off the armrest into the groin of the young Indian in the middle seat causing me to accidentally fart in the face of the one in the aisle seat.

After an extended and beetroot faced apology, I sat on my Discman and broke it.

By the time we banked over central London a few hours later, my neck was aching from looking out of the window as I had felt too embarrassed to look anywhere else.

For the third year running, I failed yet again to spot the Millennium Dome and as I wrestled my baggage from the overhead compartment I vowed never to travel economy class again, at least not with a transfer or a hangover.

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For the third year running, I failed yet again to spot the Millennium Dome and as I wrestled my baggage from the overhead compartment I vowed never to travel economy class again, at least not with a transfer or a hangover.

Scamp, I would vow never to travel with Gulf Air again, if that's who you flew with? Get yourself on a direct to Bkk it's not so bad in economy class then. I flew back with Thai on the 23rd May and had three seats to myself. I was hungover and hadn't been to sleep from the previous night also but the flight was one of the most relaxing I've been on. Plane was half empty

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Naturally the so-far-so-smooth flight decided to become turbulent as I unzipped and took aim and so taking the advice of a sign that lit up above my head, I returned to my row as soon as I was done, and hurriedly attempted to scramble over the sleeping Indians when the plane jolted and my foot slipped off the armrest into the groin of the young Indian in the middle seat causing me to accidentally fart in the face of the one in the aisle seat.

:o:D

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May 16th 2005

I have no recollection of check in, only the vague memory that I had very little time in which to catch my flight.

It’s all a bit of a blur and just how I got past all the airport officials without the aid of extra strong mints is anyone’s guess, but I can only assume that I had drunk myself sober and didn’t breath much

So you had a good flight then?

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Recon he was only joking and this must be the only Gulfy Airways flight to Kuwait
Scamp, I would vow never to travel with Gulf Air again

Whoever said it was Gulf Air?

It was Kuwait Airlines and I suppose you get what you pay for but the fact it was a bad experience was more down to misfortune than anything else, and a dangerously long time without sleep.

And just think, it only took you a month to compose this...

I was supposed to write it as soon as I got to a computer but I procrastinated until this afternoon when I finished my book and couldn't go anywhere as it was pissing down with rain all day. :o

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May 16th 2005

Ah, the joys of being English. Bitching to the bitter end. Is there nothing that you people whine on about? :D

No, but there is nothing we don´t whine on about. :D:D

I was debating this grammatical structure in my head. still not sure about it. Anyway, you get my point, no? :o

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May 16th 2005

Ah, the joys of being English. Bitching to the bitter end. Is there nothing that you people whine on about? :D

No, but there is nothing we don´t whine on about. :D:D

I was debating this grammatical structure in my head. still not sure about it. Anyway, you get my point, no? :D

Er... Okay then, yes I do, and you are right.

We find more to complain about in fair climates, coz we can´t complain about the rain.

Speaking of which, I´m going to have a look at the rain thread.

Scamp, is your next masterpiece going to be about the trails and tribulations of brushing your teeth in the morning. :o:D

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I don't deserve to sit up front.

On a trip back to BKK from London, Qantas upgraded me to business class. I sat next to this chatty lady who had been in London while her husband was there on business. She went on to tell me that he husband had been negotiating to sell his boutique bank, named Challanger, to Kerry Packer (Australia's richest man).

Had I even had an ounce of business sense about me, I would have bought up every share I could in the bank, as here I had an unsoliceted piece of inside info.

But alas, I did nothing about it. Six weeks later, while sitting at my office in BKK, I read that the sale of Challanger to Kerry Packer had been agreed, and that the banks shares had gone up 25% on the news.

Needless to say I was kicking myself.

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I've also done the trip back from Bangkok to London with Kuwait Airlines. As i recall, it was quite cheap, and i thought it quite good value for money, with decent service. With the amount of money i had left at the time it was either them or Biman and i value my life so it was no contest. The only tribulation was the stop at the particularly soul-less Kuwait airport, which is a hassle i could of done without whilst dealing with post-Thailand depression.

I wonder if the following is a standard procedure for this airline though or if my pilot just had a strange sense of humour:

I travelled with them very shortly after the Bali bombing and upon arriving in the airspace above Heathrow the plane changed direction and then started to circle. No problem, i thought, the airports obviously busy. Half an hour later, and still circling, a loud arabic voice suddenly boomed out over the loudspeaker "In the name of Allah the merciful", my heart skipped a beat and the plane went silent for several seconds, "This is your captain speaking", before the voice went on to explain the reason for delay. With all the images of Bali in the papers and the general level of understandable paranoia in the media it was an anxious few seconds. Perhaps i was just too paranoid, but i'm sure the guy knew he would have us thinking.

Any such announcements on your flight Gentleman Scamp?

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For the third year running, I failed yet again to spot the Millennium Dome and as I wrestled my baggage from the overhead compartment I vowed never to travel economy class again, at least not with a transfer or a hangover.

Scamp, I would vow never to travel with Gulf Air again, if that's who you flew with? Get yourself on a direct to Bkk it's not so bad in economy class then. I flew back with Thai on the 23rd May and had three seats to myself. I was hungover and hadn't been to sleep from the previous night also but the flight was one of the most relaxing I've been on. Plane was half empty

Gulf Air = Nightmare Bad news ,horror , unreliable , never again !

if it was free i wouldnt fly with them again .

Broke down in both directions are leaving late , filthy plane ,lazy crew , and too many bad-arse ragheads (OBL lookalikes) on board .

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Long haul flights are best being flown in Biz Class. The best, and one of the cheapest Biz class tix from London-Bkk return, is with KLM. Only £1300 return, and one of the best Biz classes I have ever travelled in, certianly the best out of all the European Airlines. :o

Edited by Mr Helper
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Long haul flights are best being flown in Biz Class. The best, and one of the cheapest Biz class tix from London-Bkk return, is with KLM. Only £1300 return, and one of the best Biz classes I have ever travelled in, certianly the best out of all the European Airlines.  :D

EVA Evergreen Deluxe is great value for money. :D

Large business style seat, plenty of room, great service and as yet I have not paid more than 600 pounds return (including taxes). :o

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Evergreen Delux "Large Biz Style Seat?"

Er yeah, hmmm 38 inches of legroom compared to 60 on KLM Biz Class!, Business Class Lounge with KLM compared to erm..........nothing!!! with EVA. 40kgs of Weight compared to 30 on EVA Delux. Oh and did I forget to mention the lie back seat that reclines back to an angle of 170 degrees with KLM Biz class?!?! EVA's Delux is NO different to Virgin & BA's 'Premium Economy', hence the word 'CON' in 'Premium Economy'. Just a premium priced rip off, for people who want to pretend they're in a much better seat. EVA Economy class 34 inches legroom, EVA Delux Class "38" inches!

The figures speak for themselves.

Large business style seat with EVA indeed! :o

Edited by Mr Helper
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I allways fly economy ... :o . It isn't perfect , far from even , but the money saved there i'll use when i'm on the holiday myself . Since i go 3 times a year ... that is quite a lot of money difference , i say ... I'm just a working person and i simply cannot have 3 flights a year in business class , go there 3 months and then save money on my account every year . I don't think economy is so bad either , yes business is better but most of the time during flight i'm sleeping anyway . Maybe the sleeping get's more comfortable but not 500 euro or more comfortable :D .

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Scamp next time try travelling somewhat sober and rested and you will have a better flight irrespective of the class....I have no sympathy for people who load themselves up before a flight and then become a pain to other travellers.

Mate of mine did that once on the way to Bkk and got arrested at Don Muang because he couldnt get off the plane, it caused great consternation not only to the fellow passengers who had to put up with him during the flight but also his missus and family who were waiting for him....because we knew him (me and my other mate, who were both sober) and talked to the Coppers, he was released into his missus's custody with strict orders to remove him from the airport immediately...he was lucky as they were going to keep him overnight and fine him for being a nuisance.

Edited by gburns57au
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With nothing but socks on my feet I waited only a minute or two to enter the WC which had, to my disgust, a damp floor which I hoped was water shaken from hands.

Naturally the so-far-so-smooth flight decided to become turbulent as I unzipped and took aim and so taking the advice of a sign that lit up above my head, I returned to my row as soon as I was done, and hurriedly attempted to scramble over the sleeping Indians when the plane jolted and my foot slipped off the armrest into the groin of the young Indian in the middle seat causing me to accidentally fart in the face of the one in the aisle seat.

Scamp you made me cry with tears from laughing :o:D:D

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Evergreen Delux "Large Biz Style Seat?"

     

Er yeah, hmmm 38 inches of legroom compared to 60 on KLM Biz Class!, Business Class Lounge with KLM compared to erm..........nothing!!! with EVA. 40kgs of Weight compared to 30 on EVA Delux. Oh and did I forget to mention the lie back seat that reclines back to an angle of 170 degrees with KLM Biz class?!?! EVA's  Delux is NO different to Virgin & BA's 'Premium Economy', hence the word 'CON' in 'Premium Economy'. Just a premium priced rip off, for people who want to pretend they're in a much better seat. EVA Economy class 34 inches legroom, EVA Delux Class "38" inches!

  The figures speak for themselves.

     

  Large business style seat with EVA indeed!  :o

Sorry why would you want the extra 10 Kg's? Trying to squeeze the wife girlfriend on board. You are just so Cheap!! Do they have a coffee shop on KLM flights?

Ah what are you doing with a tape measure after you have landed.

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Scamp, I would vow never to travel with Gulf Air again, if that's who you flew with?

Scamp, it was a question as you never said who you flew with in your OP.

Granted, sorry dude - it was Kuwait Airlines.

But this has almost been mis-interpreted as a complaint against the airline and as I said before, it was a bad experience because I was run down and couldn't sleep or get comfortable.

I would fly Kuwait Airlines again but hopefully with a little more luck, and with proper preperation prior to flying.

Only once in my life was I able to sleep on a flight and I can't remember how, but this post was just chronicling the hassle of a particularly unpleasant flight, something I'm sure I share with all the other members that aren't rich or frivilous enough to fly business or first.

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Turkish airlines would have produced an essay twice as long as the original post.

Here’s a shortened version of our horror story with Turkish Airlines:

Our son, shortly after taking off from Istanbul, began a violent nose bleed. No panic from our side, we are used to it and also have considerable experience in first aid.

There was a lot of blood. The cabin crew were relatively calm but insisted we move to first class where there was more room. Never want to dismiss a freebee, we moved to the “richees” - non of which were occupied.

Then arrived the Captain and his mate, the so-called Doctor in the Turkish Armed Forces, arguing hysterically in both English and Turkish as to whether the flight needs to be redirected or not.

Apparently Dr. Death won as he, in true Macho style tried to take over the situation, demanding that the boy should lie down and trying to stuff cotton wool up Martin’s nose to block the bleeding. This, of course, resulted in Martin’s stomach filling with blood and his consequent retching.

It also resulted in my wife saying that if he or any other member of the Captain’s entourage came within a meter of Martin she would personally kill them.

We then, sat Martin up, gave him some ice to suck on, pinched his nose at the bridge and after about a quarter of an hour, Martin’s nosebleed stopped.

Paramedics met us at Copenhagen, only to confirm everything was OK.

Dr. Mendel stood alongside the Captain on our exit, expecting a thank you for his efforts. My wife’s kick narrowly missed his <deleted>.

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