Foghorn Leghome

Foghorn Leghome
Manukau, New Zealand

Manukau, New Zealand


It’s “pessing down” in Auckland (that’s kiwi talk for it’s raining). Yet another flight, plagued by crying and screaming children (Best contraceptive…ever). I came out the other side of the flight, looking 10 years older. Even after getting off the plane, the noisiest, most uncontrollable child, had somehow managed to stay within close proximity to me. No doubt this pocket foghorn will likely be on my flight home too. Yay. I’m staying in NZ (not really). I decide it’s time to see if I can reconnect with the world, and get free wifi. Fail. I cannot get wifi, and, I’m relieved. I’m not ready to rejoin the world. I’m not ready for the realities awaiting me at home. I’ve got this sinking feeling, like everything is about to turn to ****… Or it already has, and I’m yet to read the confirmation email. It is the end of a tropical holiday…. Not having Facebook, Instagram, or any phone service, is liberating. I’m almost anxious at the idea of having it all again… I do miss the point of truth; Google. Sitting around NZ International, 3 hours in, and the noisemaker is still going strong, loud as ever. Her mother is passed out in an upright position, on a chair, exhausted by her menacing spawn and from having holes burnt in her by the eyes of dozens of irritable, sleep deprived, travellers. My “co airport people” are starting to get more and more agitated by this noisey child. Even Italian Jovanna comes over and looks the little girl in the eyes. The look said, “be quiet or I will make you be quiet”. That was the last time I saw the Italians. I will probably hunt them on Facebook.. I mean, I will send them a friend request…

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