I will be in the next few days be doing a blog on BGT!  It will be a biggun.

Last week, I went on a lovely little trip to Munich so I could attend a training course.  Me, being me, I arrived at Manchester Airport 4 (YES four) hours early for the flight!

 

For European flights, they recommend 90 minutes, I arrive 4 hours before!  Firstly, the check-in girl looked at me as if I was weird, and I can see why.  Secondly, when I went through passport control, again, they looked at me as if I was mad.

 

Well, when I went through I can see why.  It was the stupidly longest 4 hours of my life!  I swear, at one point I could tell what was on every shelf of every shop in the duty free, even the ladies sections!  I was that bored.  I went to the toilet on several hundred occassions, not because I wanted to or needed to, just for something to do!

 

Trust me, their are only so many times you can walk around looking at things before people start thinking you are extremely, erm, odd!

 

Add to this that I was "anxious" about flying as I haven't for 8 years or so, and it all makes for a very frustrating wait.

 

I walked around the shops, I sat down had a coffee, I walked around the shops, I sat down had a look at the monitor for boarding times etc, I walked around the shops, I went to the toilet, I walked around the shops, I went and had another coffee, I walked around the shops, I saw a very good looking shop assistant, I walked around the shops, I wanted to stab my own eyeballs out with a blunt object (I had no sharp ones, remember where I am folks), I walked around the shops, I sat down and had another look at the monitor for boarding times.

 

Guess what!?!?  I walked around the shops, I noticed a lot of other people looked very bored, I walked around the shops, I saw extremely good looking shop assistant again (I was closer this time, she was even more good looking than I first thought, blimey, I am shallow ), I walked around the shops, I sat down, I felt like falling asleep, I drummed my fingers for a bit, much to the annoyance of the person opposite until he noticed the look I gave him which more or less said, "Go on say something, I dare you".

 

At this point, oh I need to tell you this, I remembered, I watched Lost the night before, which did nothing for my anxiety about flying again as the first scene showed a plane at the bottom of the sea.... great, just great!  Having remembered Lost though, JJ Abrams.... Cloverfield.... Jessica Lucas.... ah I felt better.... a bit.  That underlying feeling of dread of the plane taking off, reaching 10,000 foot and then plunging nose first into the ground like a javelin thrown by an over-zealous athelete never quite left me though.  Having said that, I never got that "OMG, we are all going to die" feeling, I had that twice during the whole trip, both times I was on the ground though, more about these later.

 

A word of warning, though, a few shallow moments will also be coming up....

 

I checked boarding.... Gate 7 (or whatever, I cannot remember, but for the sake of arguing I'll say 7), yippee!  I can go to the gate, just to end up sitting around for a further 15-20minutes, only with the added luxury of having nothing, and I mean nothing, to look at!  Marvellous!  I started thinking about planes at the bottom of the sea again, just perfect.  My seat number got called in the first batch, I got to the row I was on and OMG!  Why did I choose a window seat?  More the question, why did I get a window seat overlooking the wing?  You know, that long thing that sticks out the side of the plane and is very much relied upon to stop you from falling to your doom?  The long thing that can flap a bit even when the plane is not airborne?

 

It could be argued that the wing is more important than all engines working.  A plane can stay up on one engine, apparently (not that I want to try it), but try keeping it up with just one wing, anyone remember that scene in Superman Returns when the plane loses a wing and it goes spinning out of control nose diving at a 90 degree angle.... at this point you must surely get my gist about my thinking.

 

Well, this was getting better!  I stowed my hand luggage in the overhead compartment and promptly sat down.  We were still a good few minutes before take-off but I already felt the need to fasten my seat belt.  Why?  Good question.

 

Oh well, after a few minutes, the plane started to move towards the runway.  Well, at this point I started to talk to the (we will call him poor, as in for sitting next to me) guy, it turns out he fly's around 3-4 times a month.  Oh, thats good then, I thought.

 

All of a sudden, that push of g-force as the plane shifts at a great rate of knots up to take-off speed, the nose lifts off the ground, and up, up and away.  Well, I forgot how much I enjoy flying!  It was funny, the sensation.  Loved it.  Then we got the food.  I say food in the "slimmest" sense of the word.  It was a snack, and not a great one at that, a ham sandwich.  C'est la vie.

 

Then a jolt, what was that?  Turbulance of course, blimey!  You know, you hear these stories about planes hitting a pocket of air and dropping 1,000ft down, I can see why.  That, however, was not the time I thought during this flight that we were all going to die.  Oh no, that came a bit later....

 

We were coming in to land when all of a sudden the plane banked reasonably sharply.  Now, of course, we are not to know whether this was wind or on purpose, however, your's truly was in a very advantageous position and my first thought was, "Wow, the wing is gonna touch the floor."  Well, it didn't.  Oh I forgot to mention, when the landing gear came out, it wasn't like I remember, a waring noise and then gentle clunk, no it was a clunk like the ar*e had just fallen off the plane.

 

Non of those times did I once think OMG we are going to die, no, that came after we had all three gears on touched down.  All of a sudden the massive reverse thrust, everybodies head threw against the head rest in front, a bottle came hurtling down the plane.  That was when I thought OMG, we are going to die.  Happily, and quite obviously I hope, we did not.  Remember the guy I mentioned who was sitting next to me?  The one who flies 3-4 times a month?  I looked at him, he gave me a nervous looking smile, I stupidly asked "Was that normal?", to which he answered, "Erm, no!"

 

We came to the conclusion that either the runway was short or the pilot had forgot to break at first!  I hope to God it was because the runway was short!

 

My next worry, of course, once we departed the plane, was if they had lost my luggage, the answer was a happy no, in fact, mine was the first case to come onto the carousel!  Yippee.

 

Oh but hang on, I am getting ahead of myself at this point.  You see, passport control.  Ah yes, passport control.  I handed over my passport to the officer at which point it took what seemed like an eternity for him to look at!  I was standing there thinking that if I produced just one bead of sweat I was going to get ushered into an office, bent over a table, hear the lovely snap of a rubber glove being put on and getting a "nice" rectal "exam".  (Of course I say nice in the loosest sense of the word, I would imagine, suppose it depends whether you may enjoy that sort of thing or not)  I did not want to be walking like John Wayne, I am afraid that would be far too much for me to take on my first day in a new country.

 

The fun part was to come, I had to get across Munich, the hotel I was staying in was right next door to the place where the course was.  I didn't want to get a taxi as at that point I had no idea how much it would have cost (turns out around 60euros, and yes that is near enough £60 now), so I was going to get the train.  I don't even use public transport if I can help it in Blighty, and here is me about to use it in a foreign country!  I went to the information desk and said which station do I nee to go to to get to this address.  The lovely woman behind the counter (and she was), in her extremely good English, told me.  I was like great!  Then I remembered something, I had the paper printed off internet with directions (by this point I was on the train btw), and it told me to get off at a different station!

 

My instincts, and a bit of common sense, told me to go with that one, and I did.  Lets be very fair, though, the stop she gave me was only an extra 5 minute walk to where I needed to be so wouldn't have been a complete disaster!

 

I had to make two changes though, and come the first change, and with no toilet in sight, for the first time in the entire journey, I needed to go for a p*ss!  Sod's bloody law or what?!?!?

 

I had some lovely scenery to take my mind off, and the architecture in Munich is beautiful!  The city is wonderful btw, and the people very friendly and lovely!

 

Anyways, I got to my stop, dragged myself cross-legged up the stairs turned right and there it is!  My hotel!  After eventually finding the very well hidden entrance, I checked in and went to my room.  Dropped my bags, ran into the bathroom and.... ah.... the relief.... sods law was not going to catch me short this time, of that I was determined!

 

Washed my hands and then did what every person does in a new country went for a walk.  Now, the first thing that struck me was just how friendly everyone is!  They are an amazingly beautiful people, and I must say, I have never seen so many absolutely stunningly beautiful women in one place at one time.... I needed blinkers!  (I did warn of some shallowness, did I not? )

 

I found a lovely Italian restaurant and decided this is where I would be eating, and as it turns out ended up eating every night, it really was that nice.  I had a lovely pineapple pizza that night and a couple of cokes, all for 6euros 50cents.  I dearnt have eaten the hotel food, it was 12-18euros (please bear in mind that is almost £12-£18).  Now, okay, I can claim it back, but its the principle of the thing.

 

Anyways, the following morning, the day of the course I met my colleague and we went to the course.  Course was very good, and very hard, by brain felt like it was melting at one point.

 

Right, it came to leaving for home a few days later, and you know I was disappointed in a way that I was, Munich and Germany really is that nice, but as they say, their is no place like home.

 

On the final day, we had ordered a taxi to get us back to Munich airport.  When it arrived we were greeted by this huge guy who shuck our hands, and to be honest it was more like a "good luck, you are going to die" hand shake than a "hello".  We went outside to be presented with this taxi which was a top of the range Mercedes, with TV!

 

And this is why.  To get from where we were staying to Munich airport requires the necessity on going onto the Autobahn.  I don't mind this, I love speed and it is the safest motorway in Europe if not the World.  What I do mind is when, whilst doing 180km/h (approx 112mph in real money), your taxi driver decides to perform the following, in this order.... mobile phone call, text someone, write something down (OMG the queue in front is breaking!), phone someone else, text a bit more, write another snippet of info onto a pad, drink a decent amount of water (at least I hope it was, I dread to think it could be something else) out of a glass bottle, text someone else, take a phone call again, then turn on the TV in the dash board watch it for a minute, put teletext on and then find and read an article!  Yes, all in the fast lane doing 112mph in a queue of traffic!  I looked at my colleague and he looked at me, we both had that "OMG, we are going to die" look!

 

Well, after, again at 112mph, being chopped to pieces by a complete moron in a Golf TDI (I am sure that stands for Total D*ckhead Inside), we get safely to the airport.  I almost, but not quite, kissed the floor having to pretend that I had fallen out of the taxi.  My colleague then got driven to Terminal 1, I was at Terminal 2.

 

Oh, what time is it, I thought.... oh FFS!  I have 4 hours to wait!  What is it with me and airports and waiting for 4 hours?  I sat down in the main hall and decided I would wait for an hour to check-in.  I played Ridge Racer on my PSP!  What a great game!

 

I eventually checked in and then decided to go straight through passport control, well, I put my hand luggage through the X-Ray machine, I went through the metal detector with no problems, but the x-ray machine stopped on my baggage!  Uh-oh.  Eventually it came through, the gent said to me, "Can I open your bag?", "Of course" was my answer.  It turns out I had left the European adapter on the charger for my PSP, making it almost gun shaped....  Oh how I laughed, on the inside!  On the outside I must have looked like I was doing a small, excited poo, he looked at me with great sympathy.  How come you are completely innocent and yet manage to look like you have something to hide?

 

I was waved through to be presented with a duty free, that again, after 3 hours all looks the same.

 

I got onto the plane, eventually, to be presented by one of the most stunningly beautiful air-hostesses I have ever seen!  I think her name was Jennifer, not sure, to bust playing Ridge Racer on the PSP.  The flight home was completely incident free and I even had a seat empty next to me.  My luggage was all intact back at Manchester airport and I got an uneventful taxi ride home in which we spoke about how the mancs cheated themselves to a semi final win and Chelsea, well, we just laughed.

 

The moral of this blog is this, oh feck it, there isn't one, despite how it sounds, I enjoyed every moment of it!

You know, it is not everyday that I add an ex-wrestler to my prettiest list, not really!

 

However, congratulations to Stacey Keibler whom someone sent me a piccie yesterday of, pic has been added to my piccie list....