Constant's News

Ping! The pocket knife story

Wednesday 14/07/2004.
I have to catch a plane from Palma de Mallorca to Brussels, departure: 9h40.
So, I need to get up at 8h00, in Andratx in the cultural centre Sa Taronja. I stumble to the coffee machine with too much luggage. And then we go off in the lovely jeep with driver Laurent (and Stefan and Emma - or was Emma in the other car- bzzzt, brain does not recall - small malfunction).

I keep telling to Laurent, that I have to look for my pocket knife, so I turn my backpack (a H*dgren Extreme - which is sweet for my back) upside down. I do not find it and I say,ah, well, darn, if you find a pocket knife in Sa Taronja, it is mine!

We go into the airport, check-in, the whole thing, They allowed me to carry 2 pieces of hand luggage :-) :-) a mixing desk + my backpack.
The metal detector...

Pling, my backpack goes in, and they say I have to empty it.
It goes in again, and in the little English the guards know, they say knife!

Aaargh!! knife!! naughty knife!!

So I empty everything: a list: laptop + minidisc + electricity cable + microphone + wallet + sunglasses + book on mp3 and the music industry "Sonic Boom" + headphones in a bag.

In a bag...

In a bag with a knife.

Darn dammit :,ù:$^;:ù;µM%¨?¨£?%.768273682374 []´`´~~~

A minimal discussion follows, everybody stays very gentil. It turns out that Palma does not have a special drawer with all homeless pocket knives. So they give me an alternative: run to the checkin, because the airlines sometimes send it with a bill$$££€€ to where you want to. I grab the padded envelope around my minidisc to put the knife in, and I run run run. (change floors + this airport destined for mass tourism is quite big!). I delegate my other luggage to the lovely Emma and Stefan.

I arrive at the checkin.

Empty....

(imagine the sound of wind in a desert - whistling)

Big eyes, pulsing muscles (and pain and out of breath).

Run up again because I hear: Flight 842 is....

occo quatro dos (my spanish is baaddddd)

AAA!!

aaaaa!!!

I run run run, and My brain is whirring: chuck the knife in the bin:NO!

I am almost at the metal detector again: I pass by one more shop.
And I decide to give them my knife.

I quote: "Hi, I cannot take this, a friend will come and get it, is that ok?"
The three employees stood there nodding - there was that sign of linguistic recognition...

And then I run run run - what was the name of that shop again - something with fruit!
I "push" a bit to get through security -> pointing at the speakers and the announcers repeating flight 842.

Pfew, I got through, with a sympathetic smile of the lady police oficer.

And then, run for my life.
Gosh.
One thought on repeat: I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight! I don't want to miss the flight!

Then this lady sends me the wrong way, oumpf!

And then I see Stefan and Emma in the buss. Sigh, ouch my lungs!

In the buss. I cannot speak anymore. My lungs prefer cycling above running.

Last action before lift-off: phone to say where my pocket knife is staying.

I am next to the plane, with the engines on, I produce some cryptic phrases as the battery of my mobile phone is low. The woman with the pad-dy things is saying: turn it off, turn it off.

And then, I have to leave my knife in faiths hands....

And look: !i!i!i!i!

Laurent found it! He had to check 14 shops - I guess the "fruit"-advice did not really help. According to some little bird, he was going to stop after that 14th shop. But it was the right one!

This is the Ping! notice, we had to do all kinds of stunts to hang those things on the watertanks. Humm, George and Peter did the stunts, I was the captain.

(o^v^o)

Ha, and finally, Lolita - with the knife - nooooo not to take her to the hamland. Lolita is a very nice Mallorcan pig. If you pass Andratx, go visit. She has some nice bosses too.

(-_^)

Again, thanks, L!

Posted by wendy at July 22, 2004 02:27 PM