Cork’s corporate culture beats Manchester City!

The morning is truly splendid. A cold breeze cuts through the blue Yorkshire sky as my mate and I set out for a pootle. Turned out he hadn’t been putting on a brave face about his leukaemia. The treatment is working and if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know.

We climb into his van and spend the day creeping up sheer Yorkshire hills, looking down into perfectly-formed valleys, where isolated stone farmhouses shelter behind golden-leaved trees, with only motionless sheep for company.

We find a warm and friendly pub, where we drain a pint of Tetley’s, snarf a slice of homemade steak and kidney pie and revel in our reunion.

Then I take the train to Manchester Airport and things go downhill.

My mood could not be better as I approach the Aer Lingus check-in desk. I’ve been a good boy: checked-in online, printed my boarding pass and only have my bag to drop. The lass behind the counter is engaged in conversation with her colleague at the next desk, so she waves her hand, beckoning me to come forward.

At this point I think I’ll get the usual corporate meet-and-greet, eye contact and a smile, all that sort of thing. Instead, she just carries on talking, putting out her hand to imply I should hand over my documents.

Being a bit of a prat, I lower my arms, stand to attention, stare at her and say: “Hello!”

She continues talking to her colleague.

“Hello. Human being here.”

Finally she stops talking. Handing over my passport, I start over-compensating for my anger by continually saying ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thanks’ like a raving maniac, as if I had just spat in her mouth.

Shame really, because recently I’ve been raving about Aer Lingus, choosing them over Ryanair to fly from Shannon to Heathrow. That’s why I’d booked this flight, which originally was due to land at Cork at 18:15, giving me plenty of time to drive home to Galway. Other flights from Manchester to Dublin and Shannon arrived so late I’d have to stay overnight in a hotel.

So I was far from delighted a few days before I travelled, when I receive a text from Aer Lingus – and how they have my mobile number I’ve no idea – telling me that my flight was now arriving at Cork at 22:30.

No explanation, no apology, but hey, sometimes you have to swallow the poop, go with the flow. It meant I’d have to book a room at an airport hotel after all, and lose most of a day’s work hammering back to Galway on Friday roads, but on the plus side, I’d have longer with my mate.

Back in the airport I’m through security and straight into WH Smiths to purchase vast amounts of chocolate for the Snapper. Up to the till, where a lass wearing a sash that reads ‘I’m Here To Help’ is on the phone.

All around me people are struggling with the self-service video tills. We have to scan our boarding cards into the things to buy chocolate. It’s insane, made more so by the bewildering chorus of several identical female computer voices announcing “Illegal item in the bagging area! Illegal item in bagging area!”

For more, read this week’s Galway City Tribune.