“In Club, when flying with any truly ‘first rate’ airline, you are permitted a real glass. As in, a receptacle for your chosen beverage that is made out of the material that it is referred to by. “
“I suppose that this means you are deemed more ‘trustworthy’. The same reason a ‘great white male’ in a well turned out suit, with un-scuffed shoes, can use the bathroom in pretty much any establishment. I’ve tried this out myself. Firstly, he is unlikely to ask, if he is truly the confident character we all imagine ‘him’ to be. Secondly, he is ‘trusted’. He is, presumably, rich. So if he fucks anything up, he can probably pay. The establishment may even be aware, from experience, that this is not necessarily the case, and they will continue to use these characteristics as positive signs no matter how many times this hypothesis is proven wrong. “
“This is called ‘culture’, or perhaps ‘socialisation’. It’s almost too ubiquitous to need a name. But it still does, need a name, I mean. Few would call it straight out snobbery, as the counter boy or girl who is in charge of such assumptions is unlikely themselves to be landed gentry of any kind, are invariably quite young, and avoid the main trappings of snobbery through their own private status.
If a more craggled, less shevelled, person were to come and tentatively ask for the toilet… maybe in an accent, maybe with some visible piercings or tattoos, or maybe with messy hair, or incorrect footwear…you catch my drift.”
“I do not claim to be such a victim here, my friend, I merely state the facts.”
“So, they give you this glass glass. It only serves as a reminder that all those years got by in Economy – I was not born a rich man – that you were deemed somehow less ‘trustworthy’. This leaves a taste in the mouth. Have you ever eaten plane food on the ground? That taste; over salted and false. Don’t ask why I’ve tried this, but from your face I feel like you know what I’m talking about.”
“I was also given a metal set of cutlery. Now I am angry. Vexed. Pissed off. I thought plastic cutlery quite sensible when I first flew. No one can hurt someone with a fork that breaks on soup, and you never know, these days, just who could be flying with you. So I see these metal things, and glass. I am immediately nervous. Unlike those other fools, I know that violence and cruelty are not traits held only by the less economically savvy. I know that my company is no trustworthier than any other fuckers out there. Probably less. “
“I’m sure you’ve heard that these high up business and society men are more likely to have that ‘killer’ instinct. I hire people for that instinct. They know in their hearts that they are above petty laws; they know which they can afford to break and which they must stick to. These people scare me, I’ve watched them a long time.”
“I’m sure you now understand why I had to do what I ended up doing. Or at least what drove me to it?”
“You can see, can’t you, how ‘in the moment’ it was really the only way to warn anyone of the danger they were in, or could be in. Simultaneously, to warn those waiting to cause this danger that I knew. I wouldn’t glance over their Savile suit and rouged face and assume ‘trust’. I am on to them.”
“Well. That’s a bit of an over reaction, don’t you think? I was only showing what could happen. If I hadn’t stood up and presented my hypothesis through actions, setting an example as it were, well, the real thing may even have happened! What a different day that would be!”
(Transcript xx/xx/xx @ yy:yy. Room 351, Gatwick security.)
“That fucking guy in there.”
Shaking his head, the interrogating officer turned to the airhostess who had handed the passenger over.
“I have over 30 people in room 316. Been sitting there for hours, all held up due to names, passports, visas etc. Most of them will be a mistake on the system, no fault of their own, but they’re staying here longer than that attention-seeking fucker. Yet he thinks I want to hear his philosophy or something. It’s people like him that fill up all these other rooms.”