Professional Documents
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405 Xinzhou忻州
405 Xinzhou忻州
405 Xinzhou忻州
五台山:
管涔山:
雁门关:
禹王洞:
DOUGLAS (into radio): Xinzhou Tower, this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India.
Request start for Fitton.
XINZHOU ATC (over radio): Roger, Golf Tango India, cleared to start. Be advised
the airfield closes at dusk.
DOUGLAS: Thank you, Tower. We know. The scheme we’ve come up with – and I
think you’ll admire its simplicity – is to take off before that.
ATC: Golf Tango India, please repeat?
DOUGLAS: Roger, clear to start.
(Radio off. Flight deck door opens. Martin lets out a noisy shudder.)
DOUGLAS: Good heavens! It’s Frosty the Snow-pilot!
MARTIN: Okay, I’ve done the walk-around, but then ...
DOUGLAS: Well, all’s going smoothly in here ... oh, except another bit’s fallen off
GERTI.
MARTIN: Oh, God. Which one?
DOUGLAS: The APU start-up’s failed.
MARTIN: Oh no!
DOUGLAS: Luckily, its final act before it expired was to start up the APU. So firstly,
it died doing what it loved; and secondly, we’re still good to go.
MARTIN: Good! Now, come and look at the snow.
DOUGLAS: I can see it from here, Martin. It’s lovely. Sit down, let’s go.
MARTIN: No – I’m worried about it.
DOUGLAS: Oh, Martin, no. Please.
MARTIN: You’ll waste more time arguing about it than looking at it.
DOUGLAS (tetchily): Right. Fine.
(Radio on.)
DOUGLAS (into radio): Tower, this is Golf Tango India at the holding point, runway
one-eight, ready for take-off.
ATC: Roger. Stand by for clearance.
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: Yes! We actually did it!
DOUGLAS: We surprisingly did – and with four minutes in hand!
MARTIN (sniffing): That’s funny ... (He sniffs again.) Can you ... can you smell
bacon?
DOUGLAS (sniffing): No.
MARTIN: Really? I c... I can definitely smell bacon.
DOUGLAS: Martin, is this your ‘street’ way of saying you think there’s a policeman
on the plane?
MARTIN: No-no, seriously. You-you-you really can’t smell it?
DOUGLAS: No.
MARTIN: Really? Oh dear. Does it ... does it mean something when you smell bacon?
DOUGLAS: Ah, well, that’s one for the philosophers.
MARTIN: Seriously – because ... because if you think you smell burning toast, that
means you might be having a stroke. What are you having if you can smell bacon?
DOUGLAS: Breakfast?
(Martin sighs in exasperation.)
CAROLYN (through the closed flight deck door): Oy! Drivers! What’s going on up
there? Are we going or not?
(Bing-bong.)
DOUGLAS (over cabin address): Good evening, Carolyns and Arthurs. This is your
Douglas speaking. I’m delighted to tell you that four hours in a Chinese traffic jam
have not been in vain and we are awaiting clearance to leave the mysterious Orient
and return to the obvious Fitton.
CAROLYN and ARTHUR: Hooray!
DOUGLAS: I’m joined in the flight deck by Martin, who will be your Martin today.
MARTIN: Hello!
DOUGLAS: Your cabin service attendants will be you, and I have no doubt they will
be doing everything they possibly can to make the pilots’ flight as peaceful and
pleasant as possible.
CAROLYN: I won’t! I shall be fast asleep throughout.
DOUGLAS: ... which is actually a very good start. Please sit back, relax ...
ATC (over radio): Golf Tango India.
DOUGLAS (into radio): Roger, Tower.
ATC: Clearance for take-off denied.
DOUGLAS: What?! Why?
ATC: You have left item of cargo on your stand. Please return and pick it up.
MARTIN: Oh, no, no, no! We haven’t! I did the walk-around! I’m absolutely certain
there was nothing left on the ground.
ATC: I can see it from here – about one metre high, half metre wide, white in colour.
DOUGLAS: It’s a snowman! It’s just a snowman!
ATC: Please return and pick it up.
DOUGLAS: But we can’t possibly do that before dusk!
ATC: Dawn is in eight hours and four minutes. Good night!
(Radio off.)
MARTIN: Okay. So I’ve put three of the seats back as far as they’ll go, and I’ve got
all the blankets out of the emergency kit.
DOUGLAS: How cosy. And who’s sleeping in the aisle?
ARTHUR: Me! It looked more fun.
DOUGLAS: Hmm. Well, much as I adore a slumber party, I think I’ll just sit in the
flight deck and read, actually. I thought I was operating tonight. I’ve had three coffees.
MARTIN: Y-e-s. Thing is, though, Douglas, I’m afraid you sort of have to sleep.
DOUGLAS: Why?
MARTIN: Well, we both have to get at least five hours’ sleep, or we’ll be out of
hours to fly tomorrow.
DOUGLAS: Martin, I’ll be fine. One night in nineteen seventy-nine, I stayed awake
for five days.
CAROLYN: One night?
DOUGLAS: And what a night.
MARTIN: Yes, well, nonetheless, legally ...
DOUGLAS: Yes, all right.
(Carolyn sniffs.)
CAROLYN: Arthur? Are you cooking bacon?
ARTHUR: No.
MARTIN: Ah! You see? I told you.
CAROLYN: What did you tell who?
MARTIN: I told you I could smell bacon! Douglas said he couldn’t.
CAROLYN: Yes, yes, definitely fried bacon. What is it?
MARTIN: I dunno. Can you smell it, Arthur?
(Arthur sniffs.)
ARTHUR: Not really – but smell isn’t my best sense.
DOUGLAS: Dare one ask what is your best sense, Arthur?
ARTHUR: Oh, touch, definitely. We had this game in Science once where you had to
work out what things were by feeling them in a bag, and I got nearly all of them –
even grapes.
MARTIN: Have you got any bacon? I really fancy some now.
ARTHUR: No, but I-I could go and do the dinners.
CAROLYN: Ooh, yes. I’m ravenous.
MARTIN: Me too. What are we having?
ARTHUR: Two chicken; two lamb.
MARTIN: Ah, great! Quick as you can, then.
ARTHUR: Right-o!
(Galley curtain rattles as it is opened and then closed.)
CAROLYN: Damn.
DOUGLAS: What?
CAROLYN: Oh, nothing. I ... I just realised I-I’m not going to be back in time for
Tosca.
DOUGLAS: Oh dear. That won’t go down well with Herc the Berk.
CAROLYN: Do you mind not calling him that?
DOUGLAS: I’m sorry. Hercules the Berkules.
CAROLYN: Anyway, I wasn’t going with him. He’s in Zurich.
DOUGLAS: I didn’t know Air Cal flew to Zurich.
CAROLYN: They don’t. He’s, um, he’s house-hunting.
MARTIN: ... Is he?
CAROLYN: Mmm, mmm. Yes – he might ... might move there.
DOUGLAS: Might he?
CAROLYN: Yes ... if he wants to.
MARTIN: And might you go with him?
CAROLYN: Of course not! Why ever would I?
MARTIN: Well, you have been going out for a year and a half.
CAROLYN: Sixteen months. And we haven’t been “going out”; we’ve just been ...
often in the same place.
DOUGLAS: How romantic(!)
MARTIN: So why might he move to Zurich?
CAROLYN: Well ... Now look, this is secret, all right? Swiss Airways are launching
internationally and they’ve taken over Air Caledonia, so Herc either has to move to
Zurich or take early retirement.
MARTIN: Swiss Airways is going international?
CAROLYN: Yes ... although that wasn’t really the focus of my story.
MARTIN: Oh, sorry. It’s just ... th-th-they’ll be recruiting, then, will they?
CAROLYN: Ah, I see! Yes! Yes – and you should apply.
DOUGLAS: Oh. Should he?
CAROLYN: Yes, of course he should. I keeping telling him he should be looking for
other jobs.
DOUGLAS: Do you indeed?
CAROLYN: Yes! I’m fed up with not being able to pay him. He needs to spread his
wings.
DOUGLAS: Even as we fold ours.
MARTIN: Do you not think I should apply, then, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You could. I mean, why not? You never know.
But they’re a prestigious airline.
MARTIN: Right.
DOUGLAS: I mean, by all means throw your hat into the ring. I just wonder if there
might be a less intimidating ring to aim for, first time.
(Galley curtain rattles as it is opened.)
ARTHUR: Er, Mum?
CAROLYN: Yes?
ARTHUR: A quick question: you know those small chickens you get where everyone
has one each?
CAROLYN: Yes.
ARTHUR: What are they called?
CAROLYN: Poussin.
ARTHUR: Oh. Not ‘baby chickens’.
CAROLYN: No.
ARTHUR: Oh. Chaps, you know how we were talking about mistakes?
MARTIN: What have you done?
ARTHUR: ... and how they happen to all of us and it’s just one of those things?
CAROLYN: What have you done?
ARTHUR (frantically): It should have made it clearer! When I was ordering the
catering, there was one called ‘baby chicken’ and I thought they’d be those little ones,
and I love those because you feel like a giant! But they didn’t mean that! It-it meant
these.
CAROLYN: So ... the catering you have laid on, Arthur, for four people trapped in a
plane overnight, is two jars of chicken-flavoured baby food?
ARTHUR: No! That’s not all. There’s two lamb-flavoured ones as well.
DOUGLAS: What did you think ‘baby lamb’ was?
ARTHUR: Well, all lambs are baby lambs.
MARTIN: And-and-and what about breakfast?
ARTHUR: I didn’t order breakfast.
MARTIN: Why not?
ARTHUR: I thought we’d be full from dinner.
MARTIN (frustrated): Oh!