The knob-head at 20,000 feet

DSC08008My final morning in Tasmania started with a world of hurt and a trip to the toilet to spew up last night’s menu of German beer and pizza. Alright, mainly it was German beer. And then, after a quick goodbye to Mick and Katri, I was in a taxi and on my way home.

Okay, so the driver had to stop twice so I could make a sick by the side of the road, but that’s fine.

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Actually, bye-bye from Hobart

I barely made it onto the plane, and was relieved to find I had a window seat up the back, and that no-one was sat next to me. With a bit of space and a smooth trip, I might be able to make it back to Sydney without spewing all over the place like some sort of oversized baby.

Maybe…

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Someone get the chunder bag

Everyone was seated and I was just starting to stretch out and relax, my eyes closed and the world spinning slower, when I heard a commotion up the front.

“He ate my bloody Mars bar!” screamed one bloke.

“I hungry, I hungry!” came another voice. An Eastern European voice. It couldn’t be…

“If I have to sit next to this Mars bar-stealing prick, I’ll smash him!” came the first voice.

“You give me pillow, I tired,” came the other voice. Bloody hell, it was…

There was a bit of a scuffle, then one of the men stood up… and fuck me dead if it wasn’t Stavros! STAVROS!

Stavros
STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVROOOOOOOOOOOOOS!!!!!!!!!

One of the flight chicks started leading him towards the back of the plane while the other fella carried on like a pork chop, and I picked up my backpack and put it on the seats next to me, hoping the hostie wouldn’t sit Stav the Slav there. You can see where this is going, right?

“Sir, can you please move your bag?” asked the hostie, her massive tits almost falling out of her top. “This gentleman needs to sit here.”

“Hi, friend!” chirped Stavros, sitting down. Then he reached over, grabbed my bag of Twisties and started chomping into them. “I hungry, I hungry! You give me computer, I watch Simpsons show.”

The world started spinning and my head started pounding and my stomach started churning. I leant over, opened my gob and showered Stavros with what was left of the beer and pizza, till he was sitting there looking like a pile of vomit with eyes.

“If you’re so hungry, mate, chew on that!” I said, and the whole plane broke out in applause as we climbed into the skies and away from Tasmania.

And, just because it’s my story, I’m gunna say the hostie took me out the back and rooted me. Don’t believe me? Go fuck yaself!

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