A Traveler's Tale

Flying. Something we generally can’t do without an airline and a ticket. Not strictly true because we can leap from tall buildings, or we can fall off large lumps of the scenery. This activity is however more accurately known as plummeting (almost always to our death).

But flying from one place to another is pretty normal. So much so that going to the airport has taken on the significance of a trip to the local railway station. Terminal 5 at Heathrow is one such "railway station". It came in for some serious stick when it opened but the opening was driven by BA's desire to showcase its new home in time for the Easter traffic. A strategic error of vast proportions.

I have no problem with T5 which (and I remember when that opened too) like T4, works. Indeed the other day I was pleased to discover that after around fifteen years, I am elevated to executive level and can use the BA Gallery Lounge. Good stuff, mainly because in there I can get really good bacon rolls chased down with good coffee, so that as I headed off to this desert of pork that is Qatar I need not pine for the delights of the bacon roll. I’m not back for a month so I took advantage. That’ll be soup for the rest of the week then.

But back to this flying thing.

I wrote this as we traversed the skies on BA 125 LHR - DOH via BAH to use the airline codes. I generally use the premium economy service, because it’s cheaper than club and you get more legroom than coach so I can sllep on the way home. I’ve been doing this for over a year now hence my elevation to that coveted class of lounge lizards, er sorry, lounge accessees.

But forgetting the delights of that lounge it may be worth touching on the in flight entertainment. And here I stress it is not those moments when a cabin bag falls from an overhead locker on to an unsuspecting passenger although this is always entertaining. Nope I write about the excellent movies that we get to see these days. On a trip last April I watched No Country For Old Men, a truly marvellous dark thriller.

This time I watched “A Bunch Of Amateurs”, one of those Brit movies where the lead is understated and absolutely must be seen to be the fall guy. Brit movies have to do this. Casting Burt Reynolds in the lead represents a stroke of genious because he may be considered a) a has been actor and b) he's got a good sense of humour. In it our hero (Burt) arrives at Stratford but not (as he expected) Stratford Upon Avon, to play King Lear. His transformation from overbearing, egotistical, uncooprative movie superstar, to compliant but critically acclaimed stage actor is well played and the surrounding cast is more than worthy of credit. See it, you won’t be disappointed.

Then as we passed through the skies over Iraq, and after I passed another bottle of red wine, I surfed through the entertaiment system and found Beck “Modern Guilt”. Quirky as ever but good to hear.

So, having enjoyed the hospitality and the entertainment package, not to mention the bacon rolls and coffee in the lounge, I can face the next period of my exile in Qatar safe in the knowledge that BA will whisk me back home in time for my first race of the season at Snetterton in March.