And so the trip to Barcelona passed off with very little in the way of bag excitement. I was fully expecting to be dragged off to a quiet room by airport security to have my bag for life given the once over. In the end it only caused a minor interruption as I passed through the metal detector and then had to undergo a full body scan which indicated a small ‘disturbance’ in my midriff. As the security chappie passed his hands over me, I explained that it was simply Steve the stoma and his poop collection device he could feel, to which he shrugged and sent me on my way.
So it got me thinking… I could have had anything stashed away in my little bag ahead of my flight across Europe. I could have whipped out a stash of explosive poop and caused mayhem at 36,000 feet on the 07:00 from Bristol. After all we have had the shoe bomber, I could have been the poop-pipe bomber. Just imagine the headlines and the aftermath. Future air travel passengers would have to have their arseholse sealed ahead of any flight and carry on their own poop in a clear plastic bag.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t any excessive bag inflation at 36,000 feet either. I was rather hoping that the air pressure at that height might have resulted in some ballooning, with me drifting around the cabin powered purely by methane. Small children would have been distracted from their whingeing and whining for a few moments as a middle-aged fat lad drifted by at 5 feet off the floor and I could have been batted back and forth by merry passengers who would enjoy this unusual in-flight entertainment.
Mind you I wouldn’t put it past Easyjet to have charged me for additional cabin baggage for Steve the Stoma and his kaka receptacle. As it was, we had a bit of a to-do with them taking our little roll-along cabin bag off me because the cabin lockers were full. They placed it in the hold with the other bags and it was only when we landed and were waiting at Spanish passport control that I realised that our passports were in the bag, which was now circling the luggage collection belt in the distance. So we were faced with a little bit of a challenge of how we could enter a (currently) fellow and friendly EU state without passports. Fortunately, our travel companions (Mother and Father-in-law) were not affected and managed to retrieve our passports and pass them back through so we could progress. The rest of the break passed off with no other problems.
On the way back there was no interest from our Spanish friends as I sailed through security with three bottles of gin, two hundred Silk Cut, a large Toblerone and a pair of castanets stuffed in along with Steve. Apparently you could hear my clackers going all the way down the ramp to the aircraft.