Monday, October 03, 2005

Mile High Club!

'Twas a fine day upon which I decided to plan my future around the world trip with the help of the trusty Siren Elmira the Seductress. For he had a wealth of experience in regards to air travel, and I, as a future medical professional, required a round-the-world ticket to deliver me to such ports as Auckland International Airport (AKL), New York's John F Kennedy International Airport (JFK) and London's Heathrow Airport (LHR). Let it be known also that the Siren has a wealth of tools at his disposal in regards to those much vaunted airline perks: the class upgrade.

The first question was, of course, which airline consortium I wished to fly- OneWorld or Star Alliance. For what few know is that they are in fact the rival puppet masters of the skies; the Illuminati and the Freemasons if you will. There are a myriad set of complex rules and requirements that cement the free upgrade. It is an arcane set of contortions that one must perform for this promotion, and indeed it has been described thusly:
"Sometimes you just have to wait for someone in a higher position to die."
And in fact it was the case that not so long ago an expatriate maid returning home upon a British Airways flight expired mid-flight and had to be kept in the empty First Class cabin. As one air hostess stated:
"Poor old bird, it's the only way she would have gotten upgraded."
Upon Singapore Airlines it is of course standard for planes to have within them a corpse cupboard in case of such grievous events. Possibly because so many maids fly on it, and are therefore more likely to expire.

What many do not realise is that main reason for the Siren's frequent air travel is to make use of his bisexual tendencies with the lovely ladies of the sky. Sometimes he even uses it as an excuse to breed and "drop a litter". However this is somewhat of a problem upon British Airways. For you see, those flight attendants are the hottest women that Britain can muster. You are much better off in Business Class where you are to be served by the sexiest men of Britain, the expatriate Wild Sheeps. Some of these are in fact Weresheep, men who have been affected by the "Polymorph" spell and now fluctuate between human and sheep form and are therefore lovely and fluffy all over.

Now, many of you may believe that Wild Sheeps originate from the country of my first travel destination, New Zealand. However this is a fallacy. While New Zealand may be the largest population of Wild Sheeps in the world, their true home is the Bronx in that second destination of mine, New York City. These native purebred Wild Sheeps are tough bastards, not to be crossed. Woe betide anyone who points out the colour of a black sheep's wool in the Bronx. In fact they often drop many a litter after breeding.

Now, while I was rather satisfied by my choice of travel agent in this matter, The Musketeer and Aku Soku Zan were less so. In fact they believe that in this current climate of airplane uncertainty, that I shall end up on precisely the wrong flight, on my way to a small airport in the middle of nowhere upon a rickety Cessna. That's right, kids. In 2 years from now, you may find me deworming orphans in Somalia.


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