Patrick Robertson by Brian Hennigan

Patrick Robertson

Brian Hennigan

I enjoyed this amusing tale of an alcohol-soaked salesman who seems to be going through a midlife crisis. The unpredictability of his kidnapping and subsequent journey through Thailand and Calcutta left me open-mouthed and speechless! His selfishness and complete lack of compassion and aid for his fellow kinsmen should've made me angry. But for some strange reason it didn't - partly because the humour kept my negative emotions away.

Then the giant was upon me. Not five hundred yards away were row after row of eager spectators. The crew in the cockpit were waving with the steady, reassuring tempo you would expect of experienced aviators. Predictably, the quality of the greeting on offer degenerated as one looked along the body of the aircraft. To the front, First Class affected a nonchalant, anonymous few fingers. Behind them Business Class were succinct and to the point; a strong, affirmative wave, a simple smile; a breezy, upbeat endorsement. Distressingly, after but a few rows of corporate reliability, Economy Class was the sad pandemonium one would have expected but hoped against. Miniature flashes popped as faces, hands and bodies crammed and pushed against the windows for the full length of the cabin. Towards the rear I was sure that actual fights were breaking out over viewing space.
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