Kansas City. Missouri. ‘I have achieved many things in life. As a successful businessman (bathroom tiles) I am a wealthy and influential white male privilege representative. And yet, as fun as the ride has been so far, I have always missed a higher dose of adventure. After a while, interior decoration just didn’t cut it anymore.
Many of my friends and business partners who fly around the world have at least one good scary story to tell. Turbulence. Terrorism. Something. Anything. I’m always stuck with the boring stuff: the coffee was warm, there was no queue to the bathroom, they had cartoons on TV. I mean, there’s only so much a man can take.
So I decided to change airline companies when an irresistible offer popped up in my mailbox. It said “VIP travel with a twist”. It was like someone simply knew me without ever talking to me. It promised passengers a seat among families with small children, basically no legroom, no food or drinks for hours, grumpy stewardesses and a pilot who finished his studies via correspondence. It can hardly get any better than that. Premium VIP users, obviously a super-exclusive group, were guaranteed priority expulsion from the aircraft via a secret, wooden trap door on the floor, should any catastrophe really strike. It would be quicker than for others, their pamphlet promised.
So much for that. The only thing crashing was my credit card balance. I even boarded the plane in Brussels, but it’s true what they say: lightning doesn’t strike twice. Not to mention that they even spelled my name right at Starbucks.
It sounds like a refund is overdue. That should be troublesome! But, oh, who am I kidding? Considering my luck, they’ll probably send me flowers and a note saying “Sincere apologies”.’