THE J-SEAT by KEN ARMSTRONG
INT : CHRISTMAS EVE : NIGHT : A
DEPARTURES DESK AT DUBLIN AIRPORT.
Giles: Aaaahhh!
SFX A chaotic bustle, baggage being dragged, telephones ringing, airplanes landing in the background.
GRAMS An inferior version of ‘Sleigh Ride’ on a tannoy.
Announcer: (Over loud speaker) Trans Celtic Airlines flight three-nine-four to Galway is now concluding boarding from gate 17.
Giles: Noooo!
GILES is fighting his way through a none-too-delighted queue to the Trans Celtic check-in desk.
Giles: Excuse me. You don’t mind if I..?
Person in Queue: Where d’you think you’re going?
Giles: Very late. ‘Plane leaving five minutes ago. Excuse me.
Lady in Queue: Hey, don’t push.
Giles: Sorry but it’s a matter of... life and, yes, death,
yes. If you don’t mind.
Thank you. Thanks, thanks, thanks.
He arrives at the desk and crashes his bag onto the conveyor belt.
Giles: Hi, Checking in - 8.15 to Galway. Please hurry.
Check-in lady: There is a queue sir.
Giles: Yes, sorry. I did actually seek out, and receive, express permission from everyone to ‘leap’ in front of them. (Addresses queue loudly) Didn’t I folks?
SFX A subdued grumble from the queue.
Giles: Oh, all except one gentleman in the back. (Loud) I do beg your pardon but do you mind if I ‘vault’, so to speak, in ahead of you? He’s nodding, see? He’s nodding.
Lady in queue: Why don’t you just get on with it?
Giles: Good idea. To speed things up, if I could just state that I did pack all my bags myself, there is absolutely no electrical equipment inside and my bum was clear of all illicit substances the last time I looked.
Check-in lady: Your ticket please sir.
Giles: Ticket, there you are, all yours...(Hums nervously)
Check-in lady: Ah.
Giles: Ah? Ah? (Whispering) What’s ‘Ah’?
Check-in lady: I sorry to have to tell you that this flight is presently running full.
Giles: Well.. good, that’s good. Pretty long way to Galway.
Check-in lady: ‘Running full’ doesn’t actually refer to the fuel tank. I’m afraid all seats on this flight are presently confirmed as occupied.
Person in queue: Hurry up please.
Giles: Look Miss... Miss ’Hi-I’m-Moira’. Let’s not make any mistake here. I phoned personally to confirm this flight this afternoon. I heard bloody ‘Riverdance‘ eight times before I got through! So, if the flight is full, no problem, just find somebody who didn’t confirm and throw them to hell off.
Check-in lady: I realise this must be an inconvenience, particularly on Christmas Eve but we do overbook all our flights by 15 per cent whenever possible, to ensure they run full. Sometimes very late check-ins do suffer some delay.
Giles: Well I won’t have it. Do you understand? (He raps the desk) No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Check-in lady: Isn’t that Bohemian Rhapsody?
Giles: No no, Yes! Beelzebub has a Devil put aside for me. (laughs) That’s quite good!
Check-in-lady: Not just a pretty face.
Giles: (Sighs) I was being obnoxious, wasn’t I?
Check-in lady: A bit.
Person in queue: Will you hurry it up for Gods sake.
Giles It’s just that my getting on that plane is, well, a matter of life and death.
Check in lady: If there was anything I could do...
Giles: But there is. You see, I live in London (Whispers) I get ‘Which’.
Check in lady: You get which?
Giles: That’s right.
Check in lady : No, I mean you get what?
Giles: No, I get ‘Which’. ‘What’ isn’t as good.
(Beat)
Check in lady: Next!
Giles: No wait, ‘Which’ magazine, I subscribe to it. I know about ‘those’ seats.
Check in lady: You do?
Giles: Very good - denial - they said you would. ‘Those’ seats - the ones you set aside for people who kick up a fuss.
Check in lady: Oh, the ‘fuss’ seats. (Softly) You haven’t really kicked up that much of a fuss, have you?
Giles: Ah, Je comprend Madame...
Person in queue: Will you get a move on?
Giles: No, I anticipate being here for some time yet. Perhaps you should find another queue upon which to subject your halitosis?
Person in queue: What?
Giles: I think you should go before I remove that that tragic Hector Greer wig you’re almost wearing and force-feed it, follicle by greasy follicle, to your knackered old girlfriend.
Wife: I’m his wife and just because he’s a midget_
Giles: His wife? Amazing, you look old enough to have been his hairdresser!
Person in queue: Why you_
Person 2: Hang on. Be fair mate, we let you jump the queue, but now you’re delaying us. Move over.
Giles: I will not budge until I get my seat.
Wife: I am going to notify Gay Byrne about you.
General queue mumbles: Come on....He’s going to be there all night...lets go...c’mon.
The grumbling queue disperses
Giles: Is that better?
Check in lady: You‘ve chased off my entire queue.
Giles: But have I proved myself worthy of one of ‘those’ seats?
Check-in lady: You certainly have.
Giles: Great.
Check-in Lady: Unfortunately there isn’t any.
Giles: What?
Check-in Lady: You’re quite right. We do save the occasional seat for obnoxious pains in the ass like you.
Giles: Thanks.
Check in Lady: But you’re forgetting it’s Christmas - everybody's being a pain in the ass. All the seats are full.
Giles: Then it’s time for the sob-story.
Check-in Lady: Afraid I’ve heard ‘em all.
Giles: It’s my granny, she lives all alone in a bungalow in the depths of Connemeara.
Check-in lady: Check. Heard it.
Giles: She is at death’s door.
Check-in lady: Double check.
Giles: We just made up after twenty years of fighting but I still hate her guts.
Check-in lady: That’s a new twist, I’ll give you a brownie point for that.
Giles: She called me up last night. She said that if I’m not with her to help her tuck the baby Jesus in his crib on Christmas Eve, she won’t sign her revised will, the one that includes me.
Check-in lady: The wagon!
Giles: I have abandoned my poor wife to the horrors of the Piccadilly Line, hacked my way across the Irish Sea through the worst Yuletide storm in living memory, and alienated an entire airport queue. All for a measly few thousand quid.
Check in lady It’s good, I have to admit.
Giles: It’s true. (He sneezes)
Check in lady: Bless you.
Giles: Stress (Sneezes) I’m allergic to stress. (Sneezes).
Check-in lady: Are you a nervous flyer?
Giles: At the moment - and you’ll have noticed this - I’m not a flyer at all.
Check-in lady: (Business-like again, tapping her keyboard) It is crucial that I know whether you are a nervous flyer.
Giles: Okay. Yes, I am.
Check-in lady: Ah.
Giles: Wrong answer. Strike that. I’m actually Lindbergh, The Blue Max and the great Waldo-fecking-Pepper all rolled up into one tense little ball. Is there a seat or not?
Check in lady: Well...
Giles: My middle name is Biggles for Chrissakes!
Check-in lady: I can confirm that the ‘J’ seat is free sir.
Giles: The ‘J’ seat? Right, where is it? Is it in the toilet?
Check-in lady: No...
Giles: Then I’ll take it, which gate?
Check-in lady: I’m not sure it’s a good idea. There is a serious system along the flight path tonight and the ‘J’ seat_
Giles: Listen you, my granny is the nastiest system hanging around the flight path tonight.
Check-in lady: If you’re absolutely sure. (Taps into keyboard) There! I’ll need you to sign this disclaimer, freeing the Carrier of responsibility in the event of an accident.
Giles: Disclaimer? You are joking? Not joking? Perhaps you’d better tell me exactly where this ‘J’ seat is.
Check-in lady: Ah no. (giggles) I’d really hate to spoil the surprise.
Announcer: (Over loud speaker) Trans Celtic Airlines regret that flight three-nine-four to Galway Oranmore will be delayed for thirty minutes.
Check-in lady: Just the one bag, was it sir?
© Ken Armstrong 1996