About two weeks ago, I was just about to go to bed when I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from an apartment below me. A woman’s voice was yelling “Call Security!!!!” I then heard the voice of a young child, and realised it was coming from the apartment next door to Crazy Man and Crazy Woman, where a man, his girlfriend and their three-year old little girl live.
The little girl was saying “Mommy, it’s okay”, while her mother continued to scream in complete terror. Living in Jozi – I automatically assumed that someone had broken into their home. After standing in my bedroom literally completely frozen for a few minutes, I ran to the intercom to call security, when I realised it had been disconnected recently while they installed a new system.
Completely helpless and shaking, I stood at the peephole by my front door, not knowing what on earth to do. I saw my neighbours coming out of their flat, walking down the stairs, and then come bolting back up the stairs and running back inside. By this time I was certain that someone had this family at gunpoint.
I then heard my neighbours come outside again and having recently befriended my dear old 80-year old neighbour who lives next door with her two adult children, I managed to pluck up the courage to open my door and find out what was going on. It turns out that the man living below has a habit of beating up his girlfriend.
I had never heard it before, but others had and this was clearly the worst it has ever been. Enough so, that the police were called and almost the entire complex was camping outside their front door to make sure he didn’t get away.
Eventually the police arrived and hauled him off.
Then, last week – I was happily chilling out at home, watching some television – when I started hearing blood curdling screams of the male variety, but this time coming from right next door. The 80-year old’s son was completely freaking out – throwing furniture around and shouting about killing his father in law. Now you need to understand, this man is a 30-something little tubby nebbish and at some point he yelled out “That Rhodesian f*** - I’ll kill him – I’ll show him how we do things in Africa!!!!” (At this point I pictured him thumping his chest triumphantly).
When the hell did I move into the complex of crazy?!?!?!
I’ve been left to draw two conclusions…
1) People were never meant to live so close to one another.
2) I’m better off alone.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Lions, Grace Kelly and the meaning of life over pizza
Friday kicked off with my first ever Pro 20 cricket experience. A couple of peeps from work, all dressed in the obligatory yellow (except for Mr Spencer) took a mosey down to Wanderers to enjoy the Lions vs Cobras in the Pro 20 final (Is that what the teams are called?). Great fun – got to do the Mexican wave, jump around a bit, perv over the photographer with binoculars – all good.
Saturday spent the day with the folks after drinks with Kdog were cancelled on account of the miff weather. Then headed off to Kay and Aye for wine and then onto The Knee, which was on very poor form on account of the cricket (definitely cricket overkill for one weekend). Called it a night after one very quick jam to Mika's Grace Kelly, and an SMS from Broken Arm at 10pm asking what my plans were for the evening… I mean honestly, 10pm!?!?! The boy is completely socially inept. The Ron reckons Broken Arm is an alien.
Sunday was spent having lunch and a good chat with Mr Spencer – followed by the greatest afternoon nap of all time. Dreamt I was in Switzerland.
Then headed off for Sunday night pizza with The Ron, his girlf and another couple. Ended up having a deep theological conversation about religion, the meaning of life and whether green hunting is ethical. Managed to ward off the Sunday blues completely. Fabulous.
Being the fifth wheel at dinner last night, I watched the two couples interacting and realised how much I want that. The cute exchanges, mingled with the light-hearted ripping off. Realised that there is no way in a million years I'd ever be able to reach that kind of comfort level with Broken Arm – you can't force that kind of connection. So basically, I know I should cut off all contact with him and forget about the possibility of the two of us ever working out in any way…
...Until of course I'm drunk at Manhattan again.
Saturday spent the day with the folks after drinks with Kdog were cancelled on account of the miff weather. Then headed off to Kay and Aye for wine and then onto The Knee, which was on very poor form on account of the cricket (definitely cricket overkill for one weekend). Called it a night after one very quick jam to Mika's Grace Kelly, and an SMS from Broken Arm at 10pm asking what my plans were for the evening… I mean honestly, 10pm!?!?! The boy is completely socially inept. The Ron reckons Broken Arm is an alien.
Sunday was spent having lunch and a good chat with Mr Spencer – followed by the greatest afternoon nap of all time. Dreamt I was in Switzerland.
Then headed off for Sunday night pizza with The Ron, his girlf and another couple. Ended up having a deep theological conversation about religion, the meaning of life and whether green hunting is ethical. Managed to ward off the Sunday blues completely. Fabulous.
Being the fifth wheel at dinner last night, I watched the two couples interacting and realised how much I want that. The cute exchanges, mingled with the light-hearted ripping off. Realised that there is no way in a million years I'd ever be able to reach that kind of comfort level with Broken Arm – you can't force that kind of connection. So basically, I know I should cut off all contact with him and forget about the possibility of the two of us ever working out in any way…
...Until of course I'm drunk at Manhattan again.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Song of the moment...
Starlight by Muse
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to re-ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
And I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to re-ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
And I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Friday, March 23, 2007
Cyber reality caving in on me
This world just keeps getting smaller and smaller… and it all started so innocently with MySpace.
I saw something on Dr Phil a couple of months back about MySpace and thought to myself – "I should get me one of those!" (As we all know, all fantastic ideas start with something we saw on Dr Phil) So I logged on and set up a little page. Knowing absolutely nothing about html and such things, it all looked pretty basic. Regardless, I felt pretty content and clued up on the cyber happenings of 2007.
Then a couple of weeks later, The Luce piped up about Facebook. I had never heard of it before, but as it turns out, it's pretty much like MySpace without the bells and whistles. So, again, not wanting to be left out the party, I set up another little page.
I started browsing around Facebook – and discovered that everyone can see the amount of friends you have. From a fun way to kill time at work, it had turned into a popularity contest!
I was not prepared for this at all.
I managed to accumulate about two friends (one of them being The Luce) when something popped up informing me that my Ex Boyfriend No. 4 wanted to add me as a friend. Crap! Now he knows that I only have two friends!!! I frantically began to e-mail my friends, begging them to sign up on Facebook, but they all turned out not to be as Internet savvy and decided it was all too much hard work.
So now I was sitting with two friends and an ex boyfriend. It was all too much and I decide to log back onto my old, trusty, less complicated friend, MySpace. Nothing could prepare me for what was awaiting me there…
1 new e-mail!
From Ex Boyfriend No. 3 – the cosmopolitan drinking, pink Renault driving, Erasure listening raging metrosexual. Not only had he found me on MySpace, but he had then googled me and e-mailed me at work.
All I could think was "Darn you Dr Phil!!!!"
As the cyber world began caving in on me – I found myself becoming more and more addicted…I realised, I was a quick mouse click away from finding out exactly who Ex Boyfriend No.4 was dating (who happens to be his ex girlfriend, for the record), who was hanging out with who, where they were going, who had lost weight and more importantly, who had put on weight.
But is this all a good thing?? Sometimes falling out of touch with people is actually okay… sometimes even downright fabulous. We are now permanently connected to a network of people who, despite what Facebook says, probably aren't our friends at all.
As crazy as it seems – the (somewhat) anonymous activity of blogging probably does more to bring people closer together than the multitude of networking tools that are at our disposal.
So rock on blogging rock stars – and have a fabulous weekend!
I saw something on Dr Phil a couple of months back about MySpace and thought to myself – "I should get me one of those!" (As we all know, all fantastic ideas start with something we saw on Dr Phil) So I logged on and set up a little page. Knowing absolutely nothing about html and such things, it all looked pretty basic. Regardless, I felt pretty content and clued up on the cyber happenings of 2007.
Then a couple of weeks later, The Luce piped up about Facebook. I had never heard of it before, but as it turns out, it's pretty much like MySpace without the bells and whistles. So, again, not wanting to be left out the party, I set up another little page.
I started browsing around Facebook – and discovered that everyone can see the amount of friends you have. From a fun way to kill time at work, it had turned into a popularity contest!
I was not prepared for this at all.
I managed to accumulate about two friends (one of them being The Luce) when something popped up informing me that my Ex Boyfriend No. 4 wanted to add me as a friend. Crap! Now he knows that I only have two friends!!! I frantically began to e-mail my friends, begging them to sign up on Facebook, but they all turned out not to be as Internet savvy and decided it was all too much hard work.
So now I was sitting with two friends and an ex boyfriend. It was all too much and I decide to log back onto my old, trusty, less complicated friend, MySpace. Nothing could prepare me for what was awaiting me there…
1 new e-mail!
From Ex Boyfriend No. 3 – the cosmopolitan drinking, pink Renault driving, Erasure listening raging metrosexual. Not only had he found me on MySpace, but he had then googled me and e-mailed me at work.
All I could think was "Darn you Dr Phil!!!!"
As the cyber world began caving in on me – I found myself becoming more and more addicted…I realised, I was a quick mouse click away from finding out exactly who Ex Boyfriend No.4 was dating (who happens to be his ex girlfriend, for the record), who was hanging out with who, where they were going, who had lost weight and more importantly, who had put on weight.
But is this all a good thing?? Sometimes falling out of touch with people is actually okay… sometimes even downright fabulous. We are now permanently connected to a network of people who, despite what Facebook says, probably aren't our friends at all.
As crazy as it seems – the (somewhat) anonymous activity of blogging probably does more to bring people closer together than the multitude of networking tools that are at our disposal.
So rock on blogging rock stars – and have a fabulous weekend!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The Rules
Thursday is date night with Broken Arm. After yet another drunken Madhatter hook-up on Saturday night, Broken Arm took the initiative to sms and ask me to go bowling with him this week.
This morning I arrived at the office and updated my dear colleagues, Mr Spencer and The Luce, on the latest developments in my social life. It was at this point that I was informed of ‘THE RULES’…
The Rules – as stated by Mr Spencer and The Luce:
1) Always end the date first
2) Never initiate contact
3) Never return phone calls
4) Never accept a date without being given due notice
5) Never ever appear available at any time
Now, I partly agree with number 2 and number 4 – but I think, at the same time, there is something to be said for spontaneity and going with the flow. Some of the best dates of my life are the result of a last minute decision to meet up and have involved talking until the sun comes up.
I suppose it all comes down to the idea of ‘the chase’ – and I do completely agree that there’s something unnatural about the woman being the chaser rather than the chasee. But where should we draw the line? And is there a difference between playing by the rules and playing games?
Thoughts anyone?
This morning I arrived at the office and updated my dear colleagues, Mr Spencer and The Luce, on the latest developments in my social life. It was at this point that I was informed of ‘THE RULES’…
The Rules – as stated by Mr Spencer and The Luce:
1) Always end the date first
2) Never initiate contact
3) Never return phone calls
4) Never accept a date without being given due notice
5) Never ever appear available at any time
Now, I partly agree with number 2 and number 4 – but I think, at the same time, there is something to be said for spontaneity and going with the flow. Some of the best dates of my life are the result of a last minute decision to meet up and have involved talking until the sun comes up.
I suppose it all comes down to the idea of ‘the chase’ – and I do completely agree that there’s something unnatural about the woman being the chaser rather than the chasee. But where should we draw the line? And is there a difference between playing by the rules and playing games?
Thoughts anyone?
Saturday, March 10, 2007
MsMozi in Paris
So I've returned from the City of Lights - a little confused and disorientated. I made half an attempt of keeping record of events as the unfolded - so here it is: MsMozi in Paris (uncensored)
Tuesday March 6, 2007
I love flying. I've been in the air for about three hours... I think, but kinda hard to say as I've already managed a cocktail of motion sickness pills + mini-bottle savignon blanc + mini bottle JC Le Roux + altitude. Excellent combination. I highly recommend it to anyone planning to jet off somewhere exotic in the near future.
So, as predicted, no attractive stranger sitting next to me - no wait, let me correct myself, no attractive male stranger sitting next to me. The French girl sitting next to me looks like Milla Jovovich - so it seems as though I've gotten someone elses karma. The man sitting in front of me was certainly meant to be next to me - every once in a while he lets out a turbulence-enducing snore.
The only complaint thus far is the absence of personal tv screens... seriously... what is that all about?! Shared screens are so apallingly 80s. When I sat down I started frantically trying to lift my armrest and tray table, expecting to find a hidden fold out screen. But alas - to no avail.
.... (This is where my plane-cocktail took effect and I passed out, bringing this entry to an end)
Thursday March 8, 2007
So in true genius mode, after breakfast at the hotel, I looked at the time on my cellphone and bolted out into a taxi to make it to the SA Tourism even in time. Forgetting, of course, that my cellphone was still set on South African time. Realised halfway to the River Seine that I was an hour too early - so now I sit, sipping a cafe au lait in a tabac - a good chance to catch up on my day yesterday.
Arrived at Charles de Gaulle and was met by mass confusion. Quite ironic as I met a South African woman at OR Tambo and her and I were laughing at the German tourists who couldn't work out what was potting at the airport. On the other side, it was her and I feeling the language barrier. "Quell amusement! J'aime du sport advonteur" was not going to get me through this one. Eventually made my way through, found my taxi and headed off to my hotel just off the Champs d'Elysee.
The 20 degree drop in temperature is definitely substantial, but aside from that, Paris is gorgeous. It is probably one of the best cities to travel alone to. I keep feeling as though I'm in a movie.
The lifestyle over here is probably as different as you can find to Jozi. Everyone is dressed in sleek black, walking around with purpose, iPod in ears, cigarette in mouth and cellphone clamped firmly to ear. I've smoked so many cigarettes that I've lost track. I love this city.
Yesterday afternoon I decided to hit the streets. Absolutely walked my ass off. Discovered that apparently I'm hot in Paris - got accosted by three different men within five minutes of leaving my hotel. And then men here are hot. Walked all the way down the Champs d'Elysee to the Louvre. Spent about an hour there and felt totally overwhelmed so I headed back to the streets.
By the end of the day I was completely exhausted. Couldn't fathom the thought of taking even one more step so I ordered room service and a movie and took to my super comfy Hilton bed.
I always tend to get homesick extremely quickly when I'm overseas, and my activities for today will be sure to bring it on even quicker than usual. The whole day is dedicated to the wonder of SA - rose-tinted glasses and all. SA Tourism is promoting the country to the French travel trade, so I'm preparing myself to get a little worked up. I know it sounds ridiculous, as this trip is so short, but I love SA so deeply that being away, even for a few days, can sometimes be hard for me. It's hard when home is heaven on earth.
Saturday March 10, 2007
Thursday ended up being really hectic. After over 24 hours of not being able to have a coherent conversation with someone, it started getting to me a little. When the event started, I heard a guy speaking with a South African accent and was so relieved that I practically pounced on him. Robbo will be his name for the purposes of my blog, and luckily he was just as recieved to be able to talk to someone. Robbo for the ad agency that has the SA Tourism account and we got along really well - especially since he reminded me a little of Mr Spencer.
I won't go into any detail on the event itself, for fear of losing my job - but it was... interesting.
My final hours in Paris were spent running (literally running) through Paris with Robbo being total tourists. We managed to fit in a trip to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, Grande Palais, Petit Palais, Bibliotek National, lunch and wine - all in about 3 hours.
So all round it was a great couple of days - and it's still good to be home. Felt completely disorientated for most of the day, but now starting to feel a little more normal. Quell amusement!
Tuesday March 6, 2007
I love flying. I've been in the air for about three hours... I think, but kinda hard to say as I've already managed a cocktail of motion sickness pills + mini-bottle savignon blanc + mini bottle JC Le Roux + altitude. Excellent combination. I highly recommend it to anyone planning to jet off somewhere exotic in the near future.
So, as predicted, no attractive stranger sitting next to me - no wait, let me correct myself, no attractive male stranger sitting next to me. The French girl sitting next to me looks like Milla Jovovich - so it seems as though I've gotten someone elses karma. The man sitting in front of me was certainly meant to be next to me - every once in a while he lets out a turbulence-enducing snore.
The only complaint thus far is the absence of personal tv screens... seriously... what is that all about?! Shared screens are so apallingly 80s. When I sat down I started frantically trying to lift my armrest and tray table, expecting to find a hidden fold out screen. But alas - to no avail.
.... (This is where my plane-cocktail took effect and I passed out, bringing this entry to an end)
Thursday March 8, 2007
So in true genius mode, after breakfast at the hotel, I looked at the time on my cellphone and bolted out into a taxi to make it to the SA Tourism even in time. Forgetting, of course, that my cellphone was still set on South African time. Realised halfway to the River Seine that I was an hour too early - so now I sit, sipping a cafe au lait in a tabac - a good chance to catch up on my day yesterday.
Arrived at Charles de Gaulle and was met by mass confusion. Quite ironic as I met a South African woman at OR Tambo and her and I were laughing at the German tourists who couldn't work out what was potting at the airport. On the other side, it was her and I feeling the language barrier. "Quell amusement! J'aime du sport advonteur" was not going to get me through this one. Eventually made my way through, found my taxi and headed off to my hotel just off the Champs d'Elysee.
The 20 degree drop in temperature is definitely substantial, but aside from that, Paris is gorgeous. It is probably one of the best cities to travel alone to. I keep feeling as though I'm in a movie.
The lifestyle over here is probably as different as you can find to Jozi. Everyone is dressed in sleek black, walking around with purpose, iPod in ears, cigarette in mouth and cellphone clamped firmly to ear. I've smoked so many cigarettes that I've lost track. I love this city.
Yesterday afternoon I decided to hit the streets. Absolutely walked my ass off. Discovered that apparently I'm hot in Paris - got accosted by three different men within five minutes of leaving my hotel. And then men here are hot. Walked all the way down the Champs d'Elysee to the Louvre. Spent about an hour there and felt totally overwhelmed so I headed back to the streets.
By the end of the day I was completely exhausted. Couldn't fathom the thought of taking even one more step so I ordered room service and a movie and took to my super comfy Hilton bed.
I always tend to get homesick extremely quickly when I'm overseas, and my activities for today will be sure to bring it on even quicker than usual. The whole day is dedicated to the wonder of SA - rose-tinted glasses and all. SA Tourism is promoting the country to the French travel trade, so I'm preparing myself to get a little worked up. I know it sounds ridiculous, as this trip is so short, but I love SA so deeply that being away, even for a few days, can sometimes be hard for me. It's hard when home is heaven on earth.
Saturday March 10, 2007
Thursday ended up being really hectic. After over 24 hours of not being able to have a coherent conversation with someone, it started getting to me a little. When the event started, I heard a guy speaking with a South African accent and was so relieved that I practically pounced on him. Robbo will be his name for the purposes of my blog, and luckily he was just as recieved to be able to talk to someone. Robbo for the ad agency that has the SA Tourism account and we got along really well - especially since he reminded me a little of Mr Spencer.
I won't go into any detail on the event itself, for fear of losing my job - but it was... interesting.
My final hours in Paris were spent running (literally running) through Paris with Robbo being total tourists. We managed to fit in a trip to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, Grande Palais, Petit Palais, Bibliotek National, lunch and wine - all in about 3 hours.
So all round it was a great couple of days - and it's still good to be home. Felt completely disorientated for most of the day, but now starting to feel a little more normal. Quell amusement!
Monday, March 5, 2007
Is this seat taken?
So my bags are packed and I’m almost ready to go… just waiting on that darn visa, which will hopefully be in my possession tomorrow morning. Lucky for me, Mr Spencer (aka D) has taught me some French, will be sure to get me out of any tricky situation – “Quell amusement! J’aime du sport advonteur!” which translated means “What fun! I love adventure sports”. Brilliant.
I’ve only just started getting used to the idea of travelling solo – and this will be my first international trip by my lonesome. Although a single girl jetting off on her ace to France sounds like something out of Marion Keyes novel – I’ve learnt that this is never how things actually turn out.
Take flying for example… Darryl Bristow-Bovey had a chapter in his book ‘The Naked Bachelor’ about flying and the attractive stranger (Note that I actually mention that I read about this concept in his book – very un-Darryl Bristow-Bovey-like behaviour!).
Every time I fly alone, I take my seat and watch the passengers as they file through the aisles looking for their row. And every time – with endless optimism – I see one or two attractive strangers and believe, even if it’s only for a split second, that one of them will be sitting next to me. Then I see him – the overweight 60-something alcoholic with BO whose eyes light up as he shuffles through the aisle and squeezes in next to me.
This has been my pattern for every flight I’ve ever been on – with the exception of one trip…
It was last year - I had just been on a media trip from Joburg to CT on the Blue Train and was flying back home. I was feeling a little disorientated after the motion of the train – and I’m not a great flyer at the best of times, so I knew that I wasn’t going to be in a good place at several thousand feet above sea level.
So I took my seat… and then I saw them moving through the aisles. It was a group of models flying from CT to JHB and then onto Zanzibar for a photo shoot. Next to me was the most gorgeous male model I had ever seen – he was American with dark hair and dark eyes and a ‘fall-over-and-die-from-the-sheer-fabulousness-of-it-all’ body. Across the aisle from me was another model that made the one right next to me look like an average Joe.
Finally… my day had come.
And then we took off… and I started to feel distinctly dodgy. It was at this precise moment that the beautiful man next to me decided to try and make conversation. All I could think was “Don’t throw up over the beautiful man… don’t throw up over the beautiful man” – which isn’t exactly conducive to witty and suggestive banter. I had no choice but to put on my iPod, close my eyes, and pretend I was far, far away from the intensely unfair reality of my situation.
I somehow managed to get through the flight without upchucking over the American model – but I know for sure, that was the only ‘attractive stranger on a plane’ experience I’ll ever have. That kind of thing could never happen twice. So wish me luck for my 12 hours of being squished by a skanky, snoring, drunken old man en route to Paris – but at least there’s a pain au chocolat and the Eiffel Tower waiting for me on the other side!
I’ve only just started getting used to the idea of travelling solo – and this will be my first international trip by my lonesome. Although a single girl jetting off on her ace to France sounds like something out of Marion Keyes novel – I’ve learnt that this is never how things actually turn out.
Take flying for example… Darryl Bristow-Bovey had a chapter in his book ‘The Naked Bachelor’ about flying and the attractive stranger (Note that I actually mention that I read about this concept in his book – very un-Darryl Bristow-Bovey-like behaviour!).
Every time I fly alone, I take my seat and watch the passengers as they file through the aisles looking for their row. And every time – with endless optimism – I see one or two attractive strangers and believe, even if it’s only for a split second, that one of them will be sitting next to me. Then I see him – the overweight 60-something alcoholic with BO whose eyes light up as he shuffles through the aisle and squeezes in next to me.
This has been my pattern for every flight I’ve ever been on – with the exception of one trip…
It was last year - I had just been on a media trip from Joburg to CT on the Blue Train and was flying back home. I was feeling a little disorientated after the motion of the train – and I’m not a great flyer at the best of times, so I knew that I wasn’t going to be in a good place at several thousand feet above sea level.
So I took my seat… and then I saw them moving through the aisles. It was a group of models flying from CT to JHB and then onto Zanzibar for a photo shoot. Next to me was the most gorgeous male model I had ever seen – he was American with dark hair and dark eyes and a ‘fall-over-and-die-from-the-sheer-fabulousness-of-it-all’ body. Across the aisle from me was another model that made the one right next to me look like an average Joe.
Finally… my day had come.
And then we took off… and I started to feel distinctly dodgy. It was at this precise moment that the beautiful man next to me decided to try and make conversation. All I could think was “Don’t throw up over the beautiful man… don’t throw up over the beautiful man” – which isn’t exactly conducive to witty and suggestive banter. I had no choice but to put on my iPod, close my eyes, and pretend I was far, far away from the intensely unfair reality of my situation.
I somehow managed to get through the flight without upchucking over the American model – but I know for sure, that was the only ‘attractive stranger on a plane’ experience I’ll ever have. That kind of thing could never happen twice. So wish me luck for my 12 hours of being squished by a skanky, snoring, drunken old man en route to Paris – but at least there’s a pain au chocolat and the Eiffel Tower waiting for me on the other side!
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