On the flight over I plopped down next to a slight man who was reading something in Arabic. He was around 60, and had glasses that crept to the end of his nose.

Before take-off, a tall, blonde dutchman came by and leaned across me to him: "I see you've requested an aisle seat because of a medical condition?"


It was only for a moment that I considered swapping with him.

The tall steward returned after take-off and ushered the chap to the steward's very own seat at the rear of the plane. The chap left, and immediately the aging earth mother to my right sprayed some of her belongings into the void between us.

Eventually, the chap was ushered into business class.

You know the thing I like about planes? If you happen to share some gaseous media (god forbid), it's immediately sucked up into the pressurized super air regurgitator system as if by magic. Hopefully directly into Mr. I-Have-A-Condition's seat up the front there.

On an updatery note, I'm looking forward to riding my bike around solo in Amsterdam tomorrow (on my way to Picnic06). Hoping my previous life as a bike courier will serve me well in this ridiculously free-flowing traffic.