“You’re five pounds over weight”, said the bag lady. Call me ungentlemanly for using this moniker (or whatever her name was), but technically, she had just called me a fatty. As I began blaming the burrito (I am still recovering), it transpired that it was my rather large suitcase which was causing the trouble. As Monica back-pedalled, she began urging me to offload some of suitcase A into holdall B, to save myself the fifty dollar fine. Fifty dollars if you please! Just imagine how many burritos that buys! Sucking my cheeks in, I lamented that holdall B was already full to bursting, and that any attempt to juggle the contents would end in disaster. She looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and confusion as, defeated, I hobbled off up the aisle.
Facing a hefty fine, I glanced at my watch to see that I was also facing a hefty missing of flight. Swivelling my head around and about, I caught the bag man’s eye (calm down, wait til you hear what he told me). “Excuse me, will I be OK for the nine forty to LA?” “Probably not”, he replied, and wandered off. Wandered off if you please! In my hurry through check in, I almost forgot to pay the fine. Well actually I completely forgot. Because, actually, they completely forgot to mention it. I must have looked like I needed the extra pounds.