Wi Fli...

I think I was 14 when I swam my first mile. Not sure really what prompted it besides mainly the opportunity to strip down into my speedo or alternatively the prospect of getting out of the boarding house to try get a St Annes girl to strip me down to my speedo. Neither reason behind the escapade did materialise, although I did get out he boarding house.

Come fly with me, come fly, come fly away...

Despite my prodigal swimming achievements I didn't turn into Ryk Neethling. Sure I have better abs than him but that what you get when you forge elite fitness but as piscine talent I was limited. What this bring us to is that I had no really other option than to fly to South East Asia for my holiday as getting there in my speedo was more unlikely than putting my name on the Mile High Club registry partnered by a St Annes girl, except in the latter case it would be cause she wouldn't fit, not because I couldn't swim...

Apparently they (not sure who that entails) are considering permitting the use of cellphones on planes. Interesting idea, especially since the reason for the prohibition is to prevent the threat of the radio ignition of checkered head-scarf wrapped C4 hidden in the cargo hold. Oh, and the other reason is because it is fuckin' irritating. Come to think of it the first reason I might have made up but I am pretty confident of the second reason.
I sat for 13hours wedged between Angelina Jolie's adopted Asian brat and a 300pound retired sumo wrestler with sleep apnoea and a case of sleep tablets that must have been dropped on the island of Hanoi by a foreign aid Chinook. The combination is dreadful, but were the least of my worries.

Celebrity accused of international drug smuggling ring. Search yields no evidence.

The worst thing of my 13 hours drag across the Indian Ocean was 4f5 from Boksburg, covered in fake nails and hair and drank Gin&Tonic with more vigour than a Camps Bay pom/local during an entire summer in the Cape. The problem was her high pitched voiced she seemed to click up a decibel after every swig of tipple. At one stage she was screeching so loud in her bastardized dialect of broken egoli English and Kroonstad kougal roman, that the captain disembarked from his cockpit and did a lap down to coach class to put in ear to the window to make sure engine 2 wasn't out...

If you talk non-stop for 13 hours you can say a fair bit. Well in fairness she actually only spoke half the time because the other half the Afrikaans couple that had immigrated to Perth that were sitting behind her stammered their life story in the forward direction. If you think Ryk Neethlings Texan drawl making love with his Benoni drizzle sounds misplaced you should hear what the Russian accent from Rooiboksfontein sounds like when you breed it with trailer park southern Perth. Good wow. If the plane crashed straight down into a volcanic island as they reached their crescendo I swear to Hermes I would have been happier than right then and there.

Left aisle seats 37E and 38F

Well I pondered self suffocation using the chunder amenity bag it also dawned on me that you can't access the interweb on the plane. Why the fuck not? Can a technophile out there please explain to me why they can't wifi a plane? I have no clue how it works, and even looked it up on wikipedia to no avail. Actually I didn't even get to wikipedia thanks to all these asianwhore pop-ups you get when you use the wifi at an Asian starbucks, but I still write it off as not being able to find it...