Sorry to disappoint, but the Flying High Club has nothing to do with the Mile High Club. The Flying High Club is when really embarrassing things happen to you at airports, which involve ‘flying’ items, such as plates, scrambled eggs, coffee and mobile phones.
I have now officially started up this club due to a humiliating experience that happened to me at Heathrow Airport whilst en route to New York, just before Xmas. I was hideously hungover, naturally, whilst taking cover at a Bagel gaff preparing myself for a long flight in coach.
Once I had fuelled up on a mayo-laden delight, laced with cheese and other hangover cures, I was preparing to leave by putting on my coat – simple task, for most – when suddenly my Blackberry slipped out of my hand and smashed the woman, sitting directly opposite me, right in the face. What can I say. I was more mortified than her, whilst the poor woman held her wounded head in her hands, I muttered a pathetic, “oh, so sorry” and ran away. Yes, I ran away, laughing, with the sheer horror of it all. She is probably brain-damaged and it’s all my fault. I felt like Naomi Campbell, just not as glamourous.
But this was not the conceptual moment for the FHC. The original FHC was conceived three years ago whilst travelling back from Bryon Bay to Sydney, extremely hungover (a recurring theme, it seems) and I was feeling great – super fit, great hair, sporting a lemon yellow dress with a killer tan. I stopped off for scrambled eggs and coffee before my flight, and on the way to my table, carrying a bag with a laptop in over one arm, and a tray in my hand, the imbalance of weight between the arms caused the tray to go flying up in the air – like a frigging rocket – and I watched like a frozen statue as the whole lot came down over me in slow motion. Eggs, beans, coffee, milk. All over me. It took three people to help clear up the mess, and suffice to say I arrived in Sydney not the glamorous mirage I had initially envisaged.
So, until next time, when I have more anecdotes to share with you from the FHC. I still have two more flights to catch before I head home next week, so who knows what could occur… Now, where’s my glass of wine?