(above: 'did you pack your luggage yourself?' 'yes...' 'then what's these elbowed arms from legoland?')
As usual during Easter holidays, European countries claim their citizens who are abroad back. Therefore, one had to go back to one's place -close to capital city Lloret de Mar- and spend one's Easter time there.
To do so and for various geographical and obvious reasons, I had to fly back by plane. As you might know, in order to catch a plane somebody has to go to an airport first -unless somebody has a private jet in somebody's garden-. However, being in a tiny British airport, far from corny stand-up jokes about awful food on board, losing everyone's luggage and complaints about cheap airlines facilities, is way more than a place where you get a plane to a poorer European country for pleasure -also known as continental safari-. In that airport you can find, for instance, true love. I myself found true love for the first time in my life without spending any amount of currency.
It was when the metal detector. While I was taking all my metal stuff and my Middle Eastern clothing as well as my ankle gun I saw a ginger bloke behind the detector that was sexily searching an elderly Irish man and I couldn't help falling in love with him. So I deliberately put a 2-pence coin in the tiniest pocket I could find in my trousers. Then everything was history:
'Come forward, please', said GB -for Ginger Bloke, or Bollocks-.
The metal detector bleeped out in slow motion.
'Have you got any metal item with you, sir?'.
'No, as far as I'm concerned', I lied.
'Take your shoes off, please sir', the now close and smelly ginger replied.
I thought it was going too fast but I agreed, I took my shoes off.
'May I proceed to search you, sir?', he inquired.
While he was searching my body in even slower motion, suddenly he found the coin.
'Aw, I didn't notice -sweety-'.
'No problem, for I am Ginger Searcher'
'Ginger Searcher, I'll never forget you. You save all flights from terrorists and other menaces as well as my heart.'
After this short but intense true love story, I collected my shoes, my Middle Eastern clothing and my ankle gun I forgot to give back to my inspector when I gave up the homicide department. Nevertheless, later on an overweighted Ryana*r hostess hit me with the corporation magazine in my head and I have completely lost the part of my brain in charge of my feelings.
THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'Don't you hate it when you are served horrible food on board and they lose your luggage? I do. I'm very observant although I've never flown by plane.'