Chapter 2: THE MAN WHO FLEW TO HEATHROW

“There’ll be a forty dollar charge for that, sir.”

“Forty dollars? What for?”

The girl on the desk at Auckland International Airport smiled at Jim and explained, “You’re one kilogram over the accepted weight limit and I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge you forty dollars for that.”

“You’re joking,” said Jim incredulously. “Come on – it’s only one kilo. Surely you can let that go.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m only following the rules.”

Jim looked over at the desk next to him and saw the fattest man he had ever seen in his entire life checking in. He was a sight to behold and Jim couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. Rolls of fat cascaded down the length of the man’s body and sweat was pouring down his blubbery face. Jim did a mental calculation and came to the conclusion that his trousers had more material in them than the marquee that had been erected on his wedding day. In fact, he decided that the man’s trousers alone probably weighed more than his own entire baggage allowance – plus the one kilogram extra. He looked more like a blob than a man.

“Are you going to charge him for being overweight?” he said, motioning to the fat man.

“Excuse me, sir?” said the girl.

“Him,” Jim said, “he must weigh more than four passengers and all their luggage combined. Are you going to charge him?”

“Well – err – no, of course not. We only charge if your luggage is over the limit – like yours is.”

“But do you think it’s fair that I get charged for being one kilo overweight, when that fat bastard’s shoes probably weigh more than my bags.”

“You may not think it’s fair, sir, and in all probability it isn’t, but I don’t make the rules – I just enforce by them. Now pay up or I’ll have to call security over.”

“What’s your name?” Jim asked.

“My name is Sheila, sir. Like it says on my badge.”

“And whereabouts in New Zealand are you from? I don’t recognise your accent.”

“I’m not from New Zealand, sir – I’m Australian.”

As Jim handed Sheila the forty dollars he made a mental note to inform Sir Crispen about this incident and to have her deported as an undesirable alien at the earliest opportunity.

An hour later he was sat in his designated seat on the aircraft. There were two empty seats beside him and he hoped they wouldn’t be filled so he could stretch out on the long flight that lay ahead of him.

He was looking forward to a comfortable and relaxing flight – at least until he saw the fat man huffing and puffing down the aisle, looking first at the boarding card and then at the seat numbers overhead. His heart sank as the man stopped where Jim was sitting.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I think those two seats beside you are mine.”

Jim thought long and hard about the many words that could have summed up the situation that had just developed, but as he trawled through the vast vocabulary in the lexicon of his well-read mind there was only word that could properly describe how he felt at that precise moment in time – and that word was: “Fuck!”

He stood up and allowed the fat man to squeeze past him. As he did so he was reminded of the wildlife programme he had seen on TV a couple of weeks earlier that showed a large octopus pushing its way through a small hole in order to reach some food.

The man lifted up the arm connecting the two seats and plonked himself down. He turned to Jim and smiled. “There’s never enough space on these aircraft, is there,” he said.

He had in his hand a long strap, which he attached to one end of the seat belt, and then stretched it over to the connector on the other seat. “Always come prepared, that’s what I always say,” he said, extending his hand towards Jim. “Hi, my name’s Howard. Pleased to meet you.”

Jim took his hand, shook it and withdrew it almost immediately. “Jim,” he replied.  Howard’s hand was damp to the point of soaking and there was a faint smell of old cheese about him.

Jim and Howard sat in silence during take-off. He had watched with amusement, as he always did, at the flight attendants display as they pointed out the emergency exits and demonstrated how to use the life preservers and oxygen masks. Howard broke the uncomfortable silence about half-an-hour into the flight.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“What?”

“I said I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, OK,” said Jim.

“Don’t you want to know what you’re thinking?”

“Err – well . . .”

“You’re thinking – Why me? Why does it have to me sat next to this fat bastard?”

Jim thought, that’s right. Why did it have to be me? “No, that’s not true,” he said.

“Don’t lie. Everybody thinks that when I lumber up to them. I can always see that look of disgust and horror on people’s faces when they realise that their going to have to spend hours sat next to me. I could see it on your face even when I was checking in. I saw you looking over at me.”

“Well . . .”

“It doesn’t matter – I’m used to it by now. The problem with people is that they only ever see what’s on the outside. They never take the time to look what’s within. Take John Merrick, for example.”

“The Elephant Man . . . his real name was Joseph.”

“That’s right. You see people only saw his ugliness at first. It was only when Frederick Treves took him in and came to understand what was trapped inside him that other people began to take notice and discover the beautiful and intelligent man that he was.”

Jim let out a long sigh and the guilt and shame of not looking beneath the surface overcame him. “You’re right,” he said.

“I know. John Merrick was an extraordinary man.”

“No – not that. What you said before – it was exactly what I was thinking.”

Howard smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “Does that make you feel better now that you’ve got it off your chest?”

“You know, Howard, strangely, it does.”

“Good. I’m glad. You know, I feel like Rick at the end of Casablanca.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Jim, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Jim smiled. “Shall we start again,” he said, extending his hand. “Hello, I’m Jim. Pleased to meet you Howard.”

“Likewise,” said Howard, taking hold of Jim’s hand and shaking it vigorously.

Despite this exchange, Jim did surreptitiously wipe his hand on the seat after Howard had let go.

From that moment, though, they found themselves chatting like old friends and when they changed flights for the last long leg from Singapore to the UK, Jim was pleased to discover that he was once again they were sat next to Howard.

“So, have you always been this large?” asked Jim, after take-off.

“Oh no, I was once a skinny thing. I don’t really know what happened. The doctors said it was something to do with my glands. The funny thing is I’ve been on a diet for the past six months and I seem to have gotten bigger.”

“You’re not on one of those crazy F-Plan diets or anything stupid like that, are you?”

“Well – it’s not exactly F-Plan – more C-Plan, really.”

“C-Plan? I’ve never heard of that one.”

“The C stands for cheese. It’s a new diet developed by a company in England where you eat nothing but a special type of cheese. You’re supposed to lose weight really fast with it, but it doesn’t appear to work with me. I’ve been invited by them to carry out some tests. They paid for this flight and everything – no expense spared – although they could at least have flown me there business class.”

“But if they’d done that we would never had met.”

“That’s true.”

“So what’s the name of this company?”

“As far as I know it’s a division of Arnold Chemicals in Buckinghamshire, wherever that is. They said a driver would be waiting to take me to a hotel where I’d be met by someone who’ll take me to see the General Manager to see what he can do for me.”

Jim was surprised. “Wow. That’s weird. I’m going to Buckinghamshire to see an old friend.”

“Maybe we could get together,” said Howard cheerfully. “Go out for a slimline drink or something like that.”

“Yeah, maybe we could,” answered Jim. “You know, I’d like that Howard.”

* * *

Once they were through Customs and in the arrival area Jim and Howard shook hands and said their goodbyes to each other.

“I hope everything goes alright for you, Howard. If you have any problems just give me a call.” The two men had swapped the addresses of the hotels they were staying before the plane had landed.

“The same goes for you, Jim.”

As they parted company Jim recognised the familiar face of his friend Barnaby Smith. They shook hands and then Barnaby relieved Jim of one of his bags. “Good flight?” he asked.

“You know what,” replied Jim, “it was.”

“Good. Jones is waiting in the car outside. He’s is a bit hung-over from last night so it might well be an interesting journey to your hotel.”

“Let’s go, then,” said Jim.

* * *

In the airport Howard made his way to the Gents toilets. Once inside, he removed the mobile phone that had been sent to him from Arnold Chemicals and called the number that had been pre-set on it.

“Hello, it’s Howard,” he said. “I’m at the airport.”

“What did you find out?” asked the voice at the other end of the line.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Didn’t he tell you anything about why he was coming here?”

“No.”

“You were supposed to find out as much as possible.”

“Yes – I know that, but the . . . err . . . opportunity to ask never really arose.”

The voice at the other end began to show signs of irritation. “You idiot. Why do you think I paid for your very expensive flight?”

“I thought it was to carry out tests on me.”

“You thought? You thought? Well, you know what thought did, don’t you?”

“Err – not really.”

“He followed a dust cart because he thought it was a wedding.”

Howard looked at the phone in confusion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand that.”

“You’re not supposed to.”

“I have got the name of the hotel where he’s staying, if that’s any help.”

“Yes, that would help. So, what’s the name of this hotel?”

“The Stuart Hotel.”

“Excellent. I know exactly where that is. Good work, Howard.”

“Thank you. When will the tests start? Will you be able to make me lose weight?”

“Howard, you will start losing weight almost immediately.”

The line went dead with a click and almost immediately afterwards Howard felt a surge of electricity course up his arm and into his brain. His body shuddered as his heart burst and he crumped heavily to the floor.

From inside one of the cubicles a cistern flushed and when the occupant stepped outside to wash his hands he witnessed, to his horror, a pulsating pink mass on the tiled floor, inside which was a mobile phone and the largest suit of clothes he had ever seen in his life.

 

The cover of The Possum Book of Long Haul-Flight Stories selected by Mandy Flugplatz, from where this chapter is taken.