As I left the car in the car park I slammed the door so hard it fell off. I left it for now. There was nothing worth stealing in it. I ran into the airport, hoping I hadn't missed my girlfriend... and then found her plane had been delayed for three hours.
I tried everything: I read a magazine someone had left all about great wines of Belgium; I kept finding different watercoolers and making myself cups of water of different temperatures; I kept going to the bog. After a while even that wasn't interesting enough so I found one of those faded blue chairs they always have at airports and tried to go to sleep in it. It was impossible. I kept hearing, "I WANT A DRINK! I WANT A DRINK!" and "Mummy, why's that man sleeping?" and "Mummy, why was that man reading about wine?" from this really irritating child.
Suddenly my name was called out. I went to the Air Flight Attendant Ground Assistant Supervisors Control Helpers or whatever they're called this week. They said there was a woman to see me. This old lady appeared and said things like "Greetings" and "Delighted to make your acquaintance" and so on. She said she had news of the utmost importance about Chalzon House. I only vaguely remembered that from my childhood. Why would she bring that up now?
I was just starting to ask her what this was all about when all the lights went out in the airport and we were all plunged into darkness.