As takers of frequent perilous motor journeys, we’ve oft thought of what fate could befall us if, while motoring across the middle of nowhere, we were to somehow get stuck there for a few days.
Good news, then, that $25 can buy you a pretty handy 10-day car survival kit. Well, 10 days worth of stuff you can get from the supermarket, at least. The rest of the big stuff you’ll need to provide yourself, but should already have.
The food is all either dehydrated or non-perishable, and some basic medications, water purification tablets, clothing, cooking utensils and the like make up the basics of what you should be carrying around in your trunk.
The only thing we disagree with, however, is the inclusion of disposable razors. What’s the point of being rescued after a week in the wilderness if you can’t grow one of those wicked Castaway beards?
We’ve often complained after a long flight that “economy air travel is just death”, but never realized that the death we were craving would have seen us upgraded to first class.
An elderly woman who passed away not long after take-off had been carried to the front of the plane by quick-thinking cabin crew. Paul awoke to see the woman’s body being strapped into one of the £3,000 seats, wedged with pillows to prevent turbulent slippage.
As anyone in a similar situation would be, Paul was affected by the tragic situation:
“… the relatives were allowed to sit in First Class and spent the next five hours wailing and weeping. When I complained, I was told to ‘get over it’. I was also told BA’s corpse policy would remain ‘unless I’ve got any better ideas’. In future, if I have a choice of airlines on a particular route I’ll choose anyone but BA.”
He’s right. What the world needs is perspective. This corpse ruined his trip – the nerve! The dead don’t deserve champagne, stationery and complimentary slippers.
On an unrelated note, I was meant to fly into Heathrow last week with BA. But he was like “I ain’t gettin’ on no plane, fool.”
There’s a reason why rock’s defining moments have happened in a field, somewhere. Hendrix at Woodstock, Zeppelin at Knebworth, Dylan at Newport – music played in the open air to thousands on a summer’s evening just has a sense of occasion to it.
Our weekend, while in no way as momentous, was the closest we could get – the inaugural Golden Plains event, held on a farm two hours northwest of Melbourne, Australia.
The last warmth of the summer (well, almost – we’ll explain later), thousands of shirtless people camping in a field and a select but catholic roster of musicians formed the classic foundation on which every great music festival has been built over the past three decades. Can you imagine if it snowed at Woodstock, 200 people went, and Neil Diamond headlined? Exactly. There’s a formula, and it never fails. (more…)
This is The Sporting Life’s first Good Weekend column during which we’ll talk about the weekend we - or one of our readers - had. Today we’ll talk about my own good weekend. Want to share your good weekend with us next Monday? Drop us a line at goodweekend at thesportinglife dot net.
I’m in training for a marathon so I’m trying to be good. I ran 7 miles on Saturday and settled in, thinking we’d spend the evening quietly with friends. However, at the last minute I figured I needed to let loose a little so I invited some family friends over — Paul and his wife Petra — and we grilled steaks. I’ve been in a steak frites mode recently so I peeled, cut, and soaked some spuds and them tossed them in oil and baked them for about 40 minutes. The steaks were a few sirloins I had in the freezer. Thawed them out and put them on, rubbing them with garlic salt after I flipped them. (more…)
Scarier than finding out you were a completely predictable stereotype, would be to find out you were one of the five completely predictable stereotypes “women are looking to date”, but shouldn’t.
The five clichés, lifted from a women’s magazine in a daring daylight raid, are Mr. Nice Romantic Guy, Mr. Big Shot, Mr. Sexy Older Guy, Mr. Man’s Man and Mr. Fun Social Guy – coincidentally, probably the guys that other guys tend to hate the most (even, surprisingly, Mr. Man’s Man, for which their example is Russell Crowe, who everyone hates).
Refreshingly, the article also points out that these guys are assholes – in fact, going so far as to describe Johnny Depp, James Bond, Sean Connery, Russell Crowe and Vince Vaughan as naive and fickle, promiscuous, really old, simple, and insecure and attention-seeking, respectively.
So this is your warning – don’t attempt to be the kind of guy you think girls are going to want to date, because someone’s telling them not to do it, if that makes sense.
The other message here for guys is that, similarly, you should all really avoid 5′10″ swimwear model Rhodes scholar millionaire brewing heiresses. Seriously. I’ll take on this assignment instead, go through the torture of awesome dating and amazing sex, and will report back to you in 30 years time with the news that they’re all horrible people. So just keep hitting on the ungainly girl who sells you coffee on the way to work. That’s your safest bet - she’s got her heart set on you, as well.
There are times in one’s life when you’ll need to know how to skydive into a falling aeroplane. We can’t predict exactly when or why, but here’s all the training you’ll need.
At least now we can stop shouting ‘BULLSHIT!’ at the opening scene of Goldeneye…
There’s a reason why rock’s defining moments have happened in a field, somewhere. Hendrix at Woodstock, Zeppelin at Knebworth, Dylan at Newport – music played in the open air to thousands on a summer’s evening just has a sense of occasion to it.
This is The Sporting Life’s first Good Weekend column during which we’ll talk about the weekend we - or one of our readers - had. Today we’ll talk about my own good weekend. Want to share your good weekend with us next Monday? Drop us a line at goodweekend at thesportinglife dot net.
Scarier than finding out you were a completely predictable stereotype, would be to find out you were one of the five completely predictable stereotypes 
