Some carry on about carry
For a while now we’ve been talking about getting down to Tassie to see MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art, and we finally did it my wife organised a romantic getaway in Hobart, just the two of u mulberry s, MONA ing together for a whole weekend (oh cut it out, I said ”MONA ing”. What’s wrong with you Age readers? You’re supposed to be a mature higher mulberry managerial AB demographic but you’re behaving like low brow junior clerical BCs! Come on!).
But before we could get to Hobart, we had to catch a plane there, and before we could catch a plane there, we had to take off from the airport, and before we could take off, we had to stand in a queue while the grand luggage hoisting cabin routine unfolded: 182 passengers trying to cram 265 oversized ca mulberry rry on luggage items into 74 undersized overhead compartments, holding up everyone behind them, like doughy churros clogging up a long intestine.
It happens on every flight now. Ever since airlines started offering cheaper fares for unchecked baggage, passengers have turned into a mob of luggage lugging lugheads, waddling down the aisle with huge heavy cast iron cases, thumping the head of every aisle seated passenger with the jagged corners, then crushing it into a tiny narrow compartment, like a scrap metal compactor forcing a Subaru Forester into an Esky.
And this plane was full of mulberry lugheads. In front of us was Mr Trackie Daks with his huge super sportsbag that may have been carrying a pole vault he kept shoving it into a compartment, sideways and flatways, up ways and down ways, until he finally rammed it into a gap, between someone’s MacBook Air and a duty free bag of glass figurines.