The Edge

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The Official Edge graphic by Wotchit

The hustle, the bustle, the perverts often found at airports.

The elbow in the breast bone. The sudden loss of breath. Falling to the floor. The stewards coming over and pumping your chest, thinking your heart's stopped. The pushing the steward off and explaining to everyone who have now gathered round that, in fact, you just had a panic attack. The red face. The damp armpits. This is how Wickrain arrived at Heathrow airport.

'Bloody stewards. Do they have to be so helpful?' He asked Pellicle.

'Stop complaining. Just 'cause you had a panic attack. It's their job to be helpful.' Replied Pellicle.

'Yeah, but it was almost like they were waiting for me to collapse. Did you see that one in the blue uniform. I swear he was under starters orders.'

'Where's Lorgnette? She should've landed by now.'

Flight AB354 had, in fact, landed. The passengers just weren't being let off. Sniffer dogs roamed the aisles and one was doing something very indiscreet in Lorgnette's handbag.

'Get off! That's brand new that is!'

'Yes madam of course it is,' said the dog handler in possibly the most condescending way possible. 'Mud is usually sold as standard with bags like that, I know.'

Had it not been for the general feeling of fatigue that Lorgnette was experiencing, she would've politely explained to the dog handler that she had dropped the bag into puddles several times whilst wandering the Yorkshire Moors looking for a lift. She would have also explained to the nice handler that the fist currently flying towards his face was a reflex reaction and should under no account be taken seriously. But she didn't, she was too tired.

Only after one hour of searches were the passengers let off and, eventually, Lorgnette found Wickrain and Pellicle. They'd missed their first plane to Kathmandu and would have to wait 12 hours for another one, which was fine by Lorgnette; she needed the rest.

It wasn't fine by Graham, Wickrain's accountant and a native Mubuan. He'd been waiting years for that plane1, he was getting anxious and any delays weren't making him less anxious. Another 16 hours, tops, that's all he had to wait though. Just when the plane is nice and high in the air. That's as long as I need to wait.

The Edge Archive

Oberon2001

03.07.03 Front Page

Back Issue Page

1Not literally, obviously, that would be just plain silly. But metaphorically, he'd been waiting years for that plane.

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