Today was down in the diary for High Anglican — effortless cruising through the stratosphere, gin in hand. We booked with Branson for a bit of added Virginicity. Bad Call.
We got screwed for Virginicity. Wobbles began with a Right Royal
Trailfinders Cockup where two others got allocated four tickets, so there were none in our names when we arrived at Heathrow. After an hour's telephonic hufflepuff with
Trailfinders, brand spanking new e-tickets in hand, we hit the Double Booking zone. RB had stuffed his olive so full they needed fall guys. As
Volunteer Sacrifical Lambs, RB will buy us tickets anywhere in the world any time in the next eighteen months. Only Branson don’t do Sydney. He ain’t no GAFCON man.
Well, with a silver wedding anniversary coming up next year, Lucy and I thought, why not? We joined the ranks of penally substituted scapegoats. Personally I think we deserve recognition — nothing pretentious — just, say, a tall conical hat saying — “
Sacrifical Lamb — I gave up my seat that others may fly.” Not that I’m into self-pity. So, after wrestling with a mighty clunky online check in, we were soon killing time for England in a flattist chic travel lodge, shooting the breeze with an incredibly nice American family who chose to join us in the wilderness. Chicago tomorrow. Come on, Richard Branson. You can do it!
Today was down in the diary for High Anglican — effortless cruising through the stratosphere, gin in hand. We booked with Branson for a bit of added Virginicity. Bad Call. We got screwed for Virginicity. Wobbles began with a Right Royal Trailfinders Cockup where two others got allocated four tickets, so there were none in our names when we arrived at Heathrow. After an hour's telephonic hufflepuff with Trailfinders, brand spanking new e-tickets in hand, we hit the Double Booking zone. RB had stuffed his olive so full they needed fall guys. As Volunteer Sacrifical Lambs, RB will buy us tickets anywhere in the world any time in the next eighteen months. Only Branson don’t do Sydney. He ain’t no GAFCON man.
Well, with a silver wedding anniversary coming up next year, Lucy and I thought, why not? We joined the ranks of penally substituted scapegoats. Personally I think we deserve recognition — nothing pretentious — just, say, a tall conical hat saying — “Sacrifical Lamb — I gave up my seat that others may fly.” Not that I’m into self-pity. So, after wrestling with a mighty clunky online check in, we were soon killing time for England in a flattist chic travel lodge, shooting the breeze with an incredibly nice American family who chose to join us in the wilderness. Chicago tomorrow. Come on, Richard Branson. You can do it!
4 comments:
Sorry to hear about the RB mess. I have been flying Virgin for 10 years now and I can say with certainty that recently the level of service has fallen. They used to be a head above the rest but today are just like all the others. Come on Virgin, pull your socks up!
I must be imagining things. All those red jets with "Virgin Blue" written on them flying into Sydney. (Virginblue.com.au). In fact Virgin Blue has the largest fleet size of any of the Virgin branded airlines. (Just like Gafcon has the largest number of anglicans of the various factions in the Anglican Communion.) And Richarrd Branson starting another Airline, V australia (cause he's only a minority shareholder in Virgin blue) to fly the Pacific. I'm sure both airlines will allow Bishops on board.
Thanks, Steve. RB did redeem himself a bit on the way there, with good crew, a following wind that got us there early, and slightly less 'orrible fodder than is normal in the Stratosphere.
Thanks, Anon, for info on Virgin airlines. The doozy is they won't pay for this one and his wife to use them, but I'm sure they're excellent enterprises!
Post a Comment