AT DUBLIN airport a would-be passenger ran out of the terminal building and chased a taxi-ing aircraft, shouting for it to stop. He caught up but was overpowered by police from a jeep and pinned to the ground, according to the BBC. It seems the man and a female companion were booked on the Ryanair flight to Amsterdam but were late for the flight.
It recalls the case of two guys I knew, who were on a business trip to Namibia. They signed a timber contract with an old German fellow, who insisted on taking them to the pub to celebrate with kleine-kleines – scnhapps washed down with lager.
Time passed. The fellows got anxious about getting their flight. Nein, no problem, their host insisted. He would get then there in time.
Eventually they piled into his jeep and set off for the airport – a very small one, this was a remote part of Namibia. When they arrived, their plane was already out there on the runway, about to take off.
Undismayed, the old German drove out onto the runway and stopped in front of the aircraft. The engines were screaming. The pilot and co-pilot were leaning out of their windows gesticulating. My pals stood up in the jeep and waved their tickets.
A door opened in the aircraft fuselage. A ladder came down. Next thing an air hostess was running across to them. They boarded.
The captain was waiting for them in the plane, absolutely livid. He was going on about the Civil Aviation Act, air piracy and a throwing away of the key when they got to Johannesburg.
They buckled up. They waited … and waited. Nothing doing. Then the air hostess was back.
"Your friend has fallen asleep."
Yes, the old guy had passed out in his jeep, still blocking the aircraft. Too much kleine-kleine.
"The captain says you must wake him."
"But then you'll fly off without us."
So the air hostess went with them to wake the old German fellow.
They buckled up again and slept all the way to Johannesburg. The captain must have recovered his sense of humour by the time they arrived because they never heard another thing about it.
RUGBY, rugby, rugby tomorrow. The Sharks against Western Province at Newlands; the Boks against Australia in Port Elizabeth.
So much at stake. The Sharks and Province so far unbeaten in the Currie Cup. A home semi-final beckons. It could well end up that tomorrow's antagonists face each other again in the final.
The Sharks are playing now with composure mingled with adventure. Their running, handling game in dreadful weather conditions last weekend was an eye-opener. And with the same deadly tackling. They've gone up a gear or two. This will be a cracker.
Ole, Ole, Ole!
The Boks showed against the All Blacks what they're really made of. Now's the time to obliterate the memory of that debacle in Brisbane where we threw it all away.
And the time to build toward the big showdown in the return match against New Zealand, this time at Loftus.
These are times of high drama. Will there be feus de joie twice in the same afternoon as the gals of the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties surrender their knicker elastic for the fashioning of catapults for the traditional celebratory shooting out of the streetlights?
'Erewego, 'erewego, 'erewego!
THIS contortionist went bankrupt. He couldn't make ends meet.
I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.