100daysofgrievances #13 RYANAIR

It generally begins with a hungover sprint,
Time after time I don’t take the hint.
Another wee wine? Don’t mind if I do,
All I plan for tomorrow is admiring the view.

Tomorrow dawns, always horribly bright,
And the mad dash commences; can’t miss the flight!
Slow-walking fools, idiotic staff,
Conflicting announcements, I’m all in a faff!

What possessed us to fly at this ungodly time?
Am racking my brain, there’s no reason or rhyme!
We make the flight with seconds to spare,
Was it all really worth the uber-cheap fare?

Sinking back now in the uncomfy seat,
No space for our knees, our elbows or feet.
Kids screaming blue murder, oh the joys,
Screeching hen-doers add to the noise.

The dollies squeeze trolleys down the narrow aisle,
The stench of the food is totally vile.
Hotdogs, chips, a chicken bite,
It’s starting to smell like the last train at night…

All I want now is a nice stiff gin,
I’m on my HOLIDAYS, it isn’t a sin!
Anything really to ease to pain,
We’ve four more hours of this, no refrain…

Mouth a-watering I order my vice,
What a surprise, they’ve run out of ice.
No lime either? Oh don’t you worry,
Can’t find the gin? I’m not in a hurry.

After an eternity the plane finally lands,
Not yet stopped moving and
everyone stands.
Not me however, for I never do,
In the wait for a gate, Ryanair’s last in the queue.

A sweaty hour later and we’re on solid ground,
But yes, you guessed it, bag nowhere to be found.
I’ll say it again (as I have in the past),
This time I mean it, THIS CHEAP FLIGHT WAS MY LAST!

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