The hitman and her at a terminal in decline
SIGNS at Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2 say it is undergoing an upgrade and refurbishment, and it needs it. Hopefully, it will include more seating. We ended up leaning over the metal rail that separates arrivals from greeters and dropped into the inevitable game of life assessment as the disembarked emerged like zombies from their long-haul flights. We evaluated each crumpled passenger, not only trying to guess where they came from (clues on the arrivals board), but their social standing and reasons for their journey.
There was the stocky bald-headed Mafia hitman in threatening black overcoat, pulling a steel grey Samsonite case, who had a look of seething frustration that could only be relieved by caressing a Glock semi automatic. Or maybe it had been an uncomfortable flight from Newark, New York.
Two dudes proclaimed their nationality with US sweatshirts and looked in need of a fix of coffee. At least they were not wearing Make America Great Again baseball caps.
Families re-united, an elderly couple appeared to have arrived by accident after boarding the wrong connection in Hong Kong and had those “where am I?” looks, a middleaged British couple were over-tanned and proud of it, and a young Demis Roussos made me wonder how he had ever fitted into a seat in Economy.
We were waiting for Maria’s brother Tony and sister Virginia who were travelling from Seattle, via Atlanta, Georgia. Tony was heading to his home town of Blackpool and Virginia was coming home with us.
The last flight to land had been from Atlanta but they had not appeared. A lone lady pulling a case came through the doors and I leaned over the rail to ask what airport she had travelled from.
“Manchester,” she said, looking confused in an English accent. And yes, I meant that.
“No, where have you come from?”
“Fort Worth,” she said.
“No, where did this flight come from?”
“Oh. Atlanta. We went Fort Worth to Atlanta.” “Are you the last passenger?”
“Well, I’ve lost my friend.”
What had happened to my honed interview skills?
And then Tony and Virginia walked through the doors, along with the lady’s lost friend.
Greetings and hugs were exchanged and the problem for their lateness revealed: Virginia’s suitcase. This was massively overweight for a small person and took three of us to get it in the back of the car which then sat up and begged. It was big enough to stash a body. Perhaps she was meeting the hitman later.