#45

Whoever booked the tickets clearly didn’t check Wikipedia

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#46

good story - made me think of this

#47

They didn’t bloody check anything.

This was the same person who once decided to book every employee travelling to Germany that week on the same flight to Berlin out of laziness. On the grounds that places like Dresden, Munich etc are “all in Germany so it’s all the same really”.

That person doesn’t work there any more. Instead there is the 22 year old who knows even less about any place it seems.

#48

^This sounds like top, top banter. Not as good as making someone get on a plane wearing their pushcycle hat, but funny nonetheless…

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#49

I swear that no-one actually co-ordinates the list of staff and where they’re going. The job is running workshops in schools, and the staff are pretty much interchangeable. There’s a couple of different course options for each age group and everyone can cover any of them. So it would make sense to assign teachers in regional blocks, but nope they never seem to do that.

In February I ran into some co-workers on the train to Innsbruck. I was going from Vienna to Lustenau/Bregenz on the Swiss border (400 miles) and breaking the journey in Innsbruck. They were going from Linz to Innsbruck (200 miles). Nobody had a clue why they didn’t just send me Vienna-Innsbruck (300 miles) and them Linz-Lindau (also 300 miles).

This means I’ve been to every region of Austria this year now though, mind. (Right now on the border between Styria: Arnie-land marked in pale blue, and Burgenland: no-one-gives-a-shit-land in orange)

#50

ok.

2 Likes
#51

Ta.

#52

This post is titled…
The Kindness of Strangers

Last weekend I gave a complete stranger a lift from, and then back to, Exeter Airport.

It all started when we both had to change planes at Manchester on the way down from Edinburgh. I got chatting to this lady who was on the way down to visit her injured daughter in the navy. She didn’t seem that sure about how to get to the station, so I explained that there was a bus, but it wasn’t that regular. Feeling generous, I added that if she had trouble with the bus then I could offer a lift to the station on behalf of my mum, who was picking her up.

She missed her bus so then came over to me and my mum as we were getting coffee at the airport Costa (my mum is a coffee fiend). My mum was quite perplexed at first but, being the generous soul she is immediatly insisted that we would drive this lady all the way to Plymouth (my parents live in a village nearby).

It THEN transpired that I would also be on the same plane back to Edinburgh as the lady - so my mum said "well if you show up at ours at 7.30pm we’ll give you a lift back as well. So we did.

One of the reasons I was feeling so generous was down to an incident two weeks previous during my travels in France. I had been bumming around the country in my old volvo estate and sleeping on a matress in the back, pure wild camping every night in the pines of the west coast. It was my habbit to lock the car with myself within over night, for peace of mind. One morning I emerged from the boot, and in my dopey post-sleep state I closed the boot behind me: I was locked outside the car in only my white lonsdale boxer shorts.

In a panic I tried to work out how to remedy this disasterous situation. I was in a car park by the beach in a highly remote spot. There was no one around and only one other car in the park. However, I had left a rear window open about a fingers width so I grabbed a stick and started trying to work it through the window and down to the door handle.

It was in this state that the owner of the other car found me. He was a british fellow and unlike me, he had opted to camp on the sandy ground among the pines. He immediately offered assistance. After trying varous sticks we found this to be a non-starter, but had filled my volvo with a number of broken branches. I then suggested he try a tent pole. Gradually, we worked out a method, using a doubled up tent pole and piece of string that successfully opened the door!

I never found out his name and we parted company with a handshake shorlty afterwards. Thanks for saving me, random British guy! (maybe you’re on DiS?)

Here endeth my woeful tales.

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