Pointless conversation

The other day I was driving through a forest.

An inherently odd sentence which manages to be simultaneously misleading and inaccurate:

  1. It wasn’t ‘the other day’ since that implies there are only two days and this happened on the one which isn’t this one.
  2. I was on a road which went through a forest – not crashing through the bracken, dodging trees.
  3. I was only driving if you define driving as sitting stationary in a car for hours on end.

Not a good start to a post.

Anyway, the other day I was driving through this forest and became stuck in a seemingly endless traffic jam.

“Why are all these fucking cars in this forest?” I remember asking, but I never got an answer. Up ahead, a Virgin Air Hostess (and by that I mean she worked for Virgin Atlantic and am in no way making any snap judgements about her level sexual experience) got out of her car and went to talk to the people in the car behind.

She must know them, I thought.

Then she went to the car behind, then the one behind that and the one behind that. Maybe there are multiple air hostesses in convoy who happen to be stuck in the same traffic jam? Or maybe she’s trying to find out why the road’s blocked? Or maybe she’s just touting for business? Who knows?

Before she got to me and revealed her motives, the traffic started moving and she darted back to her car.

After a brief period of driving at fairly high speeds, during which I never quite found out what we’d all been stuck behind, I lost sight of all cars – driven by air hostesses or otherwise.

Until I rounded a corner (for they have them in forests) and came to another screeching halt in another tedious traffic jam. This time the cars were moving slightly and gradually, over the course of another hour, I inched my way along the road. Presently the air hostess came back into view: parked at the side of the road, making a phone call. As I crawled level with her, she beeped her horn and motioned for me to wind down my window.

Which I did.

“I think the road’s blocked.” She offers.

“Yes.”

I probably could have thought of something better to say at that point, but the fact I was sitting in a big fucking traffic jam made the road being blocked seem a bit fucking obvious. She might have well as told me water was wet or the sky was blue (which it wasn’t, it was mostly grey); but I’m a polite soul on occasion and didn’t feel like shouting at her, so ‘yes’ had to do.

She thought about this for a while and then followed it up with:

“I don’t normally drive this car. I crashed my BMW last week, that’s why I’m driving this.”

“Oh. Right.”

And that seemed to be the end of the conversation.

There is no point to this post, it just struck me as a little odd and now I wonder: was she walking the line of traffic telling everyone the same thing?

“See that car there? That’s not my car, I normally drive a BMW.”

It’s an interesting strategy and one I may adopt in future. I plan to spend most of tomorrow wandering up to random strangers and telling them: “See these trainers? These aren’t my trainers. I usually wear more expensive ones” and then seeing how long it takes to get arrested and/or sectioned.

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Categories: Random Witterings | 6 Comments

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6 thoughts on “Pointless conversation

  1. I usually comment on Russell T. Davies’s blog.

  2. I don’t normally drive that car either.

  3. I think this is a comment I’m leaving. Goodbye, comment. Be back around five to pick you up. You don’t mind if I leave my comment here, do you?

    Yay! Let’s all get sectioned!

  4. Darren

    This isn’t my blog. It’s Phill’s. I’ve got my own blog but this one is much better. I just like to sully Phill’s blog with my rubbish posts.

  5. Mark Chaffey

    Is that a bit like this isnt my usual job, but in my real one I get to lie in the Caribbean!

  6. Very similar, yes.

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