Monday, September 3, 2012

It All Comes Back To Heathrow


I was reading London Fields by Martin Amis, and came across a passage that brought back memories:

In all I spent six nights sleeping rough at Heathrow.  Not much sleeping.  But plenty of rough.  And I despaired.  The other people were better at it than I was, stronger and quicker in the standby queue, with heftier bribes more heftily offered.  I could see myself becoming, as the weeks unfolded, a kind of joke figure in the Departure Lounge.  Then a tragic figure.  Then a ghoulish one, staggering from news hatch to cafeteria with bits falling off me.

2 comments:

  1. Jon in situations like this there's only one way out and it ain't pretty. Flirt with a flight attendant.

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  2. Come on Mike, you were there Senior year. I flirted with someone and she BECAME a flight attendant.

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