Kath & Kim Go´Round the World

Long haul flights in cattle class are always a gas. Last night’s was no exception. I was seated in my safe, little, escapist aisle seat, scanning the passengers as they came down the aisle and playing games with myself to figure out who my neighbour would be. As long as they were skinny and practically mute, I was happy. Of course, the more you hope for Kate Moss’ Russian-speaking, distant cousin, the more likely you are to find yourself next to a 140kg Chatty Pants. As Murphy´s Law would have it, along came one of the largest young lasses I have ever laid eyes on – and plonked herself next to me. Not only did she spill over onto my seat, but she was with her (much smaller) back-packing buddy and they were chatting away in strong, Australian drawls at the top of their voices. It was official, I was on a 10-hour flight with Kath and Kim.

I swear these chicks could hear my thoughts because as I nicknamed them “Kath and Kim” in my head, they cracked open a packet of salt & vinegar crisps. Still munching open-mouthed on her crisps, the smaller chick dialed home on her mobile and I had the pleasure of overhearing her very loud, very lengthy conversation: 

“Mum. Hoi.”
Pause.
“Yee-ah, so we’re on the plane.
Pause.
"Een Johannesburg.”
“Yee-ah.”
Pause.
“She hesn’t hed a cigarette een 9 hours en she’s pretty grumpy.”

At which point “grumpy” friend to my left screamed, “hooi-ey!" (I think she meant "hey!”) and elbowed her mate in the ribs. This sent their packet of salt & vinegar crisps crashing to the floor, giving off an even more pungent, vaguely nauseating, vinegary aroma. On the bright side, the demise of the packet of Lays immediately got both girls attention, the chick on the phone yelled “gotta go, Mum!”, and they attempted to dive between the seats to try and retrieve their pre-dinner snacks. Much to the consternation of the Skinny B*tch Air France stewardess who looked on disapprovingly. Which got me really motivated to help Kath and Kim find their packet of Lays. Before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees in the aisle rifling under the seats in front of us, along with the girls. "Got them!¨I yelled triumphantly and the three of us bonded instantly over my successful expedition. The friendship cemented itself when the French cow told me to "Move out of zee way!"
 
Before I knew it we were chatting away about life back in Mumbaragaloo or wherever and their up-and-coming round the world trip.
 
What did I learn? That you can´t judge a book by it´s cover – obviously – but also that you truly can´t trust a skinny chef. "Kath" is in her third year at gourmet chef school back in Oz and I´m willing to bet that she cooks like a demon.
 
Anyway, I´m pleased we made friends because this morning I woke up with my mouth wide open and my head on her shoulder.
 
"Oh my God, I´m so sorry," I said as soon as I shot up from my slumber.
"No worries!" she grinned and I got a violent whiff of stale salt & vinegar. Then again, I´m sure my breath didn´t exactly smell like Aquafresh because "Kath" reached into her bag and handed me an Australian breath mint. 
 
Fair enough, mate.

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