Flew down to Zürich on Wednesday evening for our annual skiing trip to the alps. Although the flight from Oslo is just over two hours, it was a living nightmare. It all started during boarding. When I suddenly realized that we were in fact boarding the ego-flight to Switzerland, more specifically the first leg of a trip to Zermatt (oh-so-posh). It was just packed with finance people greeting each other in this obnoxious nasal manner that seem to follow getting a job in their line of business. A simple "hi" or a brief little "hello" does not do it for these guys. Ohno. It is all :"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahloooooooooooooooooooooooo" and
"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeihsaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaann" for two hours straight. LOUDLY. Followed by gin and tonics, enjoyed STANDING in the aisle of the plane.
Some of them where traveling in the company of their luuuuvly wives. Mostly blonde women wearing a lot of expensive jewelry. One of them had three - 3 - of the lovely Cartier bracelet that I have my eyes on. So, we are talking SERIOUS high maintenance here. For some reason these women just smile, they barely speak.
Just for the record. I am completely aware of the fact that being a blonde (although artificially, which may be even worse), and married to one of the guys in this business, I am sort of throwing diamonds in a glass house here. But we do not tend to be part of that "thing". So husband nodded back to the ones he knew, and introduced me to the guys that came over to talk. Funnily enough, the other wives were not introduced. Hm. Perhaps it was not the wife after all.
Anyway, enough about the ***holes. Let us get to another body part. If you have read about my previous mid-air ordeals, you know that I do have a strong opinion AGAINST people getting "too comfortable" on planes. Guess what, on this flight I hit the jackpot! Sitting in the first emergency row, I had the pleasure of having the only guy on the plane that would not need skis on his arrival sitting in the row behind me, with his feet in the open space to the left of me. He kept kicking into my extra serving table holding my extra mini-bottle of champagne. Jerk. Then, on the other side of the aisle, I got a guy with a serious thing for his feet. He took off his shoes to reveal his stinky socks as soon as we reached cruising altitude. Yuk. If that was not enough, he kept stroking and caressing his feet all the time. I suspect a serious case of fungus. Double-yuk.
I have never been more happy to feel the landing wheels touch ground.
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