People Watching: Airport Edition

People Watching - Airport Edition

Like many others, I like indulging in a spot of people watching.  I particulary enjoy it when I’m in an airport.   Liverpool is my preferred location for this, and the comfy stuffed seats in the corner overlooking the main floor in the Aspire Lounge is my favourite place to do it.

There’s something about the excitement and expectation of an airport atmosphere that captures the best in some people.  However, it also captures the devil in the impatient, grumpy ones who can’t get a bottle of their preferred branded beer in the free bar and are facing the prospect of a 10 hour flight to some far flung beach resort.

It’s like that scene in Love Actually when you see the tears, heartache and joy etched on people’s faces as they bid loved ones goodbye or finally get rid of their overbearing father in law and know they can go home and not be judged for a while.  Everyone has their own reasons for being in the airport and it’s my job (unoffically, obvs) to work out what that is.

For example, as Les and I sit; him reading The Guardian and me writing this on my phone, I imagine peope are looking at us, thinking that we’re a fairly young couple, off on a city break to celebrate an anniversary and an impending 40th birthday.   And how right these people would be! Bravo, a todos.   

But enough about us; let’s see who my victims are today… 

The Clampets:
This is a generic title I use for any family with lots of kids, so no offence is meant.   It’s just my way.   

The Clampets are a Scouse family of two adults and four rather noisy children, who are currently drowning out the anchor on Sky News.   As I peruse the departure list above my head, I decide they must be going to Spain.   I also say a quick prayer that it’s not to the same part as me.  

As I work through the flight board, I surmise they’re bound for Palma in Mallorca or Lanzarote, because obviously.   

They have kids; they’re noisy (so clearly need tiring out during the day) and Mum and Dad look mostly knackered.   What would be more perfect than 2 weeks at a beach resort with built in water park?   That way, the  kids will sleep all night and the parents can down their sorrows with lots of watered down Bacardi from the all inclusive bar.  

All I have to do now is wait…

Tattooed Gelled Hair Man and Girflriend:
A little distance away from…let’s call it  The Spying Corner, sits a slightly overweight man with a massive tattoo on his arm, and, who I assume is his female partner.   Might be his sister, I really don’t know.  

Anyway, it’s definitely his girlfriend because who goes on holiday with their sister?  Apart from me, of course.  

And what if they’re not actually going on hols?  What if they’re off to visit their sick mother on the 17:25 Easyjet to Belfast?  You’re starting to see why this game takes up so much of my time, aren’t you?

TGHM had knocked back three bottles of Tiger beer and his SO is currently doing a crossword.  I’ve noticed that she’s not drinking. That has me slightly stumped for a minute before I decide that he’s a manual worker from…let’s say North Wales, and she’s the daughter of his boss.    It’s also a new relationship and this is their first holiday together.  

He chose the destination (Amsterdam) telling her that, of course they can go to Anne Frank’s House and the Van Gogh Museum. Just as soon as they’re done getting bladdered in their local dive bar.  She doesn’t really know about his drinking habits yet.    That poor girl.   

Hmmm… as I nipped past them on the way to the bar, I just noticed that she’s also got a huge tattoo on her arm.    Christ on a bike…she’s defo not the Boss’s quiet daughter.   She’s now making me completely reevaluate my entirely Ill informed judgement of their lives.  I HATE it when that happens.   What a bitch.    

Regardless, they’re still bound for The Netherlands.    Also: they might wanna head to their gate soon as the flight to Schipol is about to board.

…they totally haven’t left yet.  They’re obviously deaf.   Don’t worry, I’ve sent Les across to save the day.

Smart Family of Five:
Dad is dressed in Adidas trainers and Mum’s in skinny jeans and sandals.   They’re both Scouse.   

They’ve got 3 kids; 2 girls and a boy. Teenage girl is dressed in skin tight jeans and a short crop top, so we know her Dad’s a fairly chilled out individual.   

Their son is sitting far away from them.  Embarrassed, maybe??  He must be a teenager, too, then.   Their cute AF little blonde daughter has trainers that flash when she moves and have already given the guy across from her an epileptic fit.   Only place he’s headed now is Arrow Park, but I’m guessing they’re heading to Alicante.   I have no idea why, but when the other options are Isle of Man, Barca, Madrid and Berlin, it’s the one that sticks out. 

Who takes three kids to the never ending fun that is the German Capital?  Exactly.    Viva España. 

The Jocks;
Yes, we’re everywhere.  No airport experience is complete without spotting a Scottish family about to head out on an annual pilgrimage to….Italy? No.  Eh…Jersey? Nah…also doesn’t fit.

Firstly, why are they here?  Why can’t they hop a flight from Glasgow??  I guess that it must be because their destination can’t be accessed from a Scottish airport.

So, that bascially rules out ANYWHERE Spanish. We’ve got that completely covered.  It’s easier to get a flight to San Antonio than Aberdeen from our airports.   Also: I hear the sea is much warmer there.  
My departure board is starting to look a little sparse.   We have Mum and Dad Jock, with stereotypical ginger hair and the look of someone who might knock you out of you breathe the wrong way in their general direction.    I’m at a loss tbh.   Where DO Scottish couples go on holiday?

And then I spot it: Dublin.  It has to be.   I then have to change all my previous made up presumptions about them and decide they must live near Liverpool as Scotland flies to Dublin on a regular basis. Some would say a little *too* regular, but it certainly helps boosts football revenue in Glasgow every second Saturday.  

Obviously the Scofs are off to light up Temple Bar for a fee days and indulge in no cultural activites whatsoever.    We’ll soon see photos of them on fb; hammered on Guiness and singing Irish rebel songs at 3am as they attempt to stagger back to their hotel.   


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