The Business

Say what you will of the French, but no people have gone further in mastering the art of the incredibly annoying Nokia ring tone-alarm-wakeup-thing.

Indeed it does, my friends.

So yeah, I've been away. You may have noticed. You may not have, that's entirely up to you. But a couple of months ago, I received in the mail a silver-tinted card, officially making me a member of my chosen airline alliance's middle-tier bonus club. Which was nice of them, although I do agree with research that suggest those who end up third are generally happier than those who get second place ("Yay, I made the podium!" vs "Bugg'rit, missed out on winning. Again"). But this induction into the carbon polluters secondary hall of shame meant I of course had to do something with the point-things.

By the way, I really miss the days when I could sanctimoniously scoff at pretty much most other people just because I didn't have a car. Now it seems I can't get on a plane without having an attack of carbon-conscience. Somebody should just take matters into their own hands and disinvent fossil fuels altogether.

Anyway, back to what might resemble a story. What to do about the points? Fly, of course. Where? I have two (or possibly three, now) entirely separate friends in Ireland, lets go see them! (this may or may not in fact have been the primary motivation for the trip, but it seems so much globetrotterian to go the other way). However, even after payment, there would still be some points left. They were about to go bad, just like that piece of soft cheese I've just blatantly ignored in the fridge since its purchase back in times ancient. So yes, since I am now a working man and will likely have less holiday-days a year than you can count on one finger, why not go the whole nine yards and do things in style: Business class. Oh yeah.

Things are very much the smoothness on my flight out, but the return journey? Can-fucking-celled. Technical difficulties. While part of me - yes - can appreciate the fact that the airline took time out of its schedule to check it wouldn't kill us all this time, I can't help thinking the Karmic Gods are laughing their collective behinds off. My second ever business class trip turns into a re-routing via Switzerland, and a six-hour delay in arrival. But being the one and only (Chesney Hawkes!) business passenger from Zürich made me appreciate the reverse of that Seinfeld skit where he imagines what the look back from the stewardess closing the little curtain means: "If you only tried a little bit harder, I wouldn't have to do this to you, you know".

Also! While apparently I am naive enough to believe the guy who told me the EU allows airlines to not give out monetary compensation when flights are grounded on technical grounds, I was generously treated to lunch at the airport. Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Really, it tasted better than it looks

On the flight, reading the staple of the business traveler, the Financial Times, I find this little piece about China and India. And visas! You see, they're not really happy with each other about some random land somewhere. China wants it. India kinda wants it too. Same old, same old. But instead of taking the active option - just invade and get it over with, one way or another - India negotiates sending a team of negotiators to China to talk it over, and possibly have some tea. But these meta-negotiations... crash and burn. You see, China refused this one guy an entry visa. This is a valid reason for getting upset, I feel. But the reason was that since the guy was from the disputed area, China thus considered him to be Chinese, and not in need of a visa in the first place. Now as a guy who's been through his fair share of visa-related crap over the years, let me just tell you, negotiator-guy, don't be an idiot. You take that ball and run with it as far as you possibly can. One less visa-requirement in the world will only make it that much better a place to pollute by flying frivolously around it.

The Financial Times

Now that the actual journey has been covered in excruciating detail, I can leave you with incontrovertible proof of my having been on the Emerald Isle. Or at least ofbeing able to find things quickly on Google Images. I present you with the greatest phallus symbol there is in all the land, located in downtown Dublin, no less!

A giant... thing

You didn't honestly think this post would include stories of merriment with friends in an exotic land, did you? If you did, you are forgiven. Come back soon, as I will have gone on a boat. In an ocean!