Tag Archives: Travel

The AAirpass actually exists.

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It was sold for a one-time fee of $250k in an attempt by a cash-strapped American Airlines to raise revenue without having to borrow from the banks. Unfortunately (for them), they didn’t factor in just the levels of dedication the 28 pass holders (flying addicts) would bring to the agreement. Millions have been lost in fares and taxes, and a bloke by the name of Steve Rothstein, an investment banker from Chicago, was their number one ‘abuser’.

He took more than 10,000 flights and essentially circumnavigated the globe a zillion times before AA had enough of the geezer and managed to revoke his privileges. They cited various ‘fraudulent activities’ such as his habit of cancelling reservations or letting strangers use his companion pass (extra cost $150k).

This guy is a hero. Imagine the movie. I think you’d need to insert something more than comedy into proceedings, make it all Terrence Malick with the transcendental freedom of travel (until nasty corporation breaks the contract) the main theme. Or get a meagre Ryanair version made.

Of the 28 AAirpasses purchased, 25 are still valid.

Further reading:

https://thehustle.co/aairpass-american-airlines-250k-lifetime-ticket/

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/sep/19/american-airlines-aairpass-golden-ticket

https://www.economist.com/gulliver/2012/05/13/fly-anywhere-any-time-for-life

https://www.scoopwhoop.com/steve-rothstein/

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Qantas Airways – New York to Sydney.

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19 hours nonstop from New York City to Sydney, 40 passengers and crew monitored by scientists on board to determine the effects of the mammoth endeavour. What the fuck do you do to amuse yourself on a plane for 19 hours? Halfway through my 11-hour flight to Tokyo I began to feel like a part of me had died inside, though this may have been the effect of the new Planet of the Apes movie I was watching. On those chimp movies, I don’t get all the fuss over them. Fucking drivel. If I want to see chimpanzees I can just wander around some of the rougher enclaves of Edinburgh.

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A typical Dalry boozer.

This flight, however. You’re going to need climbing frames and batting cages in the cabin, or a circus show to pass the time. Nevertheless, it’s an impressive feat. Nearly 10,000 miles in just a day. Not bad at all.

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Further reading:

https://nypost.com/2019/08/23/qantas-to-test-worlds-longest-flight-at-19-hours-between-nyc-and-sydney/

https://robbreport.com/motors/aviation/could-you-handle-a-20-hour-flight-qantas-is-testing-nonstop-trips-from-new-york-to-sydney-to-see-2865430/

https://matadornetwork.com/read/exercises-can-long-haul-flight-without-looking-like-weirdo/

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Airport meltdowns.

I was verily addicted to this show-stopper back in the day. EasyJet, Stelios, staff who couldn’t give a fuck about enforced politeness, wannabe passengers who are so stupid you wonder how they managed to emerge from bed without causing nuclear fallout. There’s something about airports that brings out the inner tosspot in the human species. It’s a sociologist’s paradise, as John Cooper Clarke would have put it.

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Berlin 2009 was my own private kick-starter.

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A full 10 years next week since I first set foot in Germany, this extended Berlin jaunt the beginning of many more liver-swelling shenanigans. In a decade the following have been … surmounted:

Amsterdam, Munich, Bratislava, Vienna, Brussels, Prague, Budapest, Kraków, Amsterdam again, Düsseldorf, Frankfurt, Bremen, Gothenburg, Tallinn, Amsterdam again, Munich again, Stockholm, Frankfurt again, Poznań, Bangkok, Oslo, Hamburg, Osnabrück, Bremen again, Tokyo, Kaunas, Riga, Warsaw, Gdańsk, Dublin, Kraków again, Oslo again, Sliema, Geneva, Copenhagen, Bremen again, Dortmund, Cologne, Bonn, Amsterdam again, Milan, Venice, Rome, Dublin again, Warsaw again, Berlin again, Basel, Bilbao, Reykjavík, Salzburg, Sliema again, Albufeira, Straubing, Berlin again, Szczecin, Salzburg again, Munich again, Wroclaw, Porto, Sofia, Straubing again.

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Hitler’s Bunker today.

Berlin 2009 was unique in that I did it entirely internet free. I had no snazzy smartphone and wasn’t on any social media platforms. I had a mere camera and that was it. Consequently, I actually saw shit and took it in. No phone = no distraction, no barrier between me and the Grey City’s peculiarities. It was the most productive slice of tourism I’ve ever done and the last time I’ve used a paper map. In a sense it was a crossroads trip, the last archaic adventure.

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Bavaria. Booze. Bantz.

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Straubing.

Back in the Fatherland again for more lazy gallivanting, a week of Lidls, pubs, and killer insects. This is my seventh trip to Bavaria, so only a few new insights. I do quite like the place – it’s quiet (mostly), civilised (mostly), and people have manners (mostly).

Ice cubes.

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All of these goodies and no ice cubes. Tragic.

Why the dearth of them in supermarkets? Is this some ‘German thing’ in which they’re too ashamed to purchase the cubes ready-made, that the locals would rather be all labour-intensive and concoct the beverage coolers at home? Irritating.

Lidl. 

These convenience stores continue to be an experience. One can always unearth a wee treat in here, from cut-price protein bars to knock-off Jägermeister. I also admire the checkout staff; they don’t attempt to initiate pointless small talk when you’re more dishevelled than Jimmy McNulty during his peak Baltimore mishaps. They get on with it, which is how it should be done. British people suffer from an affliction: talking about the weather. It’s boring chat and you get no such gibberish from these Germans.

Mosquitos. 

These fuckers need wiped out regardless of the wider ecological ramifications. They attack O negative blood like those choppers in Apocalypse Now (1979) taking down the village to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. I’m a so-called ‘universal donor’ and this is how I’m rewarded – bites in double figures to my face, arms, legs, and arse. Charming. “Burn them all,” as Aerys Targaryen would have wailed.

Wheelchairs.

Where are the people in wheelchairs? In Straubing and Passau I didn’t see a single Ironside. Strange. Are they kept indoors or something?

Chernobyl connotations. 

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Lined up my midget e-cig with this and felt quite grateful I didn’t grow up anywhere near Ukraine circa 1986. I thought this snap quite the arty-farty creation; it will be doing the rounds on Instagram.

Overall, another cracking jaunt. I’ll be back next year for an Aldi blog.

 

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Thai Times.

Thailand July to OctoberRemnants of a rather bonkers epoch in Thailand. It was my own private version of Apocalypse Now (1979). Guns, booze, beaches, mosquitos, monuments, and 7-Elevens. Good times.

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Throwback Thursdays – Malta.

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Sliema was a cracking wee jaunt – booze, sun, pigeons. My personal highlight, though, was a troupe of clueless Yanks asking the bus driver for directions to a “fish market”. The bloke behind the wheel took off his sunglasses, looked the ringleader of the muppets up and down, and retorted “Nah” before closing the bus doors.

Epic.

 

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HS2 is coming.

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“HS2 will change things.”

I remember the chat well. This was eight years ago when I was doing soul-destroying manual labour/customer service in Edinburgh Waverley train station. The job was well paid and a laugh – colleagues were cracking banter and all hit the sauce like pros – but the “civilians” who ventured into that station. Fucking hell. Never again. Members of the general public are the dregs of humanity.

Anyway, I heard this HS2 topic daily, a colossal event on the horizon. The railways in Britain are a shambles. No-one knows why and not a soul has a solution. It’s been like this for the past century. No-one knows why. HS2 is meant to be the panacea for the chaos.

HS2 trains, expected to be operating by December 2026, will be 400 metres long, travelling at up to 250 mph – the fastest in Europe, apparently – and able to hold 1,100 seats, the initial line between London and the West Midlands. Following this, ‘Phase 2’ will connect Birmingham to Manchester and Leeds.

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The new lines will connect to existing standard-speed lines, with ‘classic compatible’ trains running on both high-speed and classic lines. The idea is that classic lines will benefit from HS2. The London to Edinburgh journey time, for example, will be 3:38 hours instead of 4:23.

Guaranteed they will still cost a fucking fortune, though.

I can get a flight to Dublin for £6 but a train to London King’s Cross is £194. And this for the privilege of being sat on some rickety rocket chock-full of intoxicated bairns.

Trains are torture.

Further reading:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/politics/2019/02/16/true-cost-hs2-not-known-boss-controversial-rail-scheme-admits/

https://www.globalrailwayreview.com/article/77763/hs2-route-uk-cities-development/

 

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Airport security pre 9/11.

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Waiting at the gate is an exploit I remember from that Friends episode (“The One with Ross’s New Girlfriend”, 1995) when Rachel – peak Jennifer Aniston with flowers in hand – waits for Ross returning from China, only for him to emerge with a new missus. Much like the whimsical innocence of mid-’90s sitcoms, we’ll never see such things in an airport again.

Looking at pre-9/11 airports is as if being confronted with an alien entity – the lax rules, the laissez-faire atmosphere of the buildings, the … freedom of the places. I flew on about seven flights prior to September 11, and even as a teenager I recall the airport endeavour was a doddle, much like crucifixion in the Python cinematic universe. It explains the success of the hijackers, especially when you consider box cutters and small knives were permitted on certain aircraft at the time.

I don’t think anyone with a modicum of concern for their own or another’s safety is bothered about making the ‘sacrifices’ of conforming to post-9/11 air travel rules. No bottle of Volvic allowed from outside the airport? Diddums. It’s a small price to pay.

The awfulness stems from interaction with passengers who are thick as fuck, and these are voluminous. Airports appear to be a breeding ground for the bottom-rung IQ scale of the general public. I’m talking about fuckers who line up at the conveyor belt oblivious to the omniscient signs on display indicating the liquid prohibitions, clowns who try and smuggle Prosecco on board, the haughty lot who protest at taking their shoes off, the numpties who insist on walking through the metal detector with a pocket full of shrapnel.

They are the real pain in the arse.

Further reading:

https://www.farecompare.com/travel-advice/9-ways-security-has-changed-since-911/

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/jun/29/my-short-life-as-an-airport-security-guard

https://www.cntraveler.com/story/how-airport-security-has-changed-since-september-11

https://www.cheatsheet.com/culture/things-you-could-do-at-an-airport-before-9-11.html/

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Sensation White – Amsterdam.

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2010, 2011, 2012 – I call those melted days the ‘Holy Trinity’. In your twenties you have carte blanche to do whatever the fuck you want; my modus vivendi was getting absolutely melted at trance events on the continent. Sadly, those days are over, but I do enjoy a wee throwback video from time to time, drinking Peach Schnapps in my living room, swinging a glow stick around like a demented spacker.

As for Amsterdam, it’s a bit of a hovel (too many ruffians, too many bikes) but the Ajax strip is lovely and their stadium permits all manner of chav behaviour in the summer.

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