Wherever I Lay My Hat.........

Waking at "the crack" after an anxious, fitful sleep on a friend's couch in London, I made my way to Heathrow's brand new Terminal 5 for a flight to Stuttgart to meet my lovely friend for a weekend of German sausage and beer.  After the recent opening debacle where 1000's of passengers were separated from their luggage, I decided to take a small carry on backpack, just to be safe.

When checking in at the self serve machines, I was given seat 12c, in the aisle but decided to change it for a couple of reasons.  1. I was very tired and thought I would lean on the window to sleep and 2. I'd recently read a story about a plane crash where everyone in the front half of the plane was killed, so I chose the window seat in the very back seat - 22A.  

As I settled in, it became clear that seat 22B was going to be occupied by a handsome, older gentleman who looked extremely familiar.  He was tall and wore a leather jacket and lots of 'product' in his dark hair which was dashingly speckled with grey.

He seemed to have little regard for those around him as he talked loudly on his phone to someone called "Beautiful" all the way to the back of the plane.  He hung up as swung himself into his seat, so I wasn't able to get the full story on "Beautiful".

He was so familiar but I just couldn't put my finger on it.  I couldn't help but stare at the side of his head.  I could feel my brow furrow as I desperately searched my memory.  I knew I didn't know him personally and that he was probably famous for some reason.  Perhaps a singer?

He sat down, nudged my elbow off the armrest, got his laptop out, put his 'noise reducing' headphones on and for the entire 2 hour flight, fiddled with the same song on Garage Band.  The reason I know it was the same song is because I could hear the tinny excess coming from his 'noise reducing' headphones!  I discretely searched his laptop screen for a log in name or something that would give away his identity but to no avail, but the fact that he was rearranging music made me think that my initial thought that he was a singer could have been correct.

"Just ask him" said the voice in my head..... "Just say, Excuse me, where do I know you from?' or ask, 'Are you a singer?'"  But my knowledge of personal space and boundaries stopped me from listening and acting on what I clearly wanted to do.  And the fact that he hadn't been one bit friendly since he sat down told me that he probably didn't want to be disturbed.

Now, the tinny music coming from people's headphones generally drives me insane instantly, however I had endured it for a good hour and a half so I thought to hell which personal space and boundaries and I tapped his arm and said "I'm sorry but do you think you could turn your music down please mate?"  He didn't say a word and he didn't look at me.  He simply took off his headphones, turned off his laptop and put it away.  Now you would think that this would be my opportunity to ask him who the hell he was....... but no, the fact that he didn't look my way or mumble anything, not a "oh, I'm sorry about that" or "Could you hear it, I'm sorry" - you know, like normal people who give a shit about people around them.  So I was caught off guard and lost what seemed like it should have been an opportunity.

The plane landed, he got up and left.  I chose to wait in my seat rather than rush into the squashed aisle to stand sardine style front to back until the doors opened and I was so bemused by my dealings with this nameless famous man that it was probably better to keep my distance.

As he walked towards to door a name came to me.......... Paul Young.  Now, what the hell did he sing?

I had to wait until I'd collected my bag, gone through customs and met my friend so I could point him out and then she could come up with the information...... we had to google him.

Wherever I lay my hat?  Oh that's right.  What a wanker!