And De Fun Don't Done Read Online Free

wandering around the terminal. It was no different from boarding a domestic flight in Australia. He showed his ticket at the desk, next thing he was inside some massive plane, the ceiling almost as high as St Mary’s Cathedral, seated on the aisle somewhere in the middle. All Norton had seen of LA was a crowded, hot, sweaty, hazy, confusing blur. Settled back in the aircraft’s cool interior Les was now able to relax a little and check out the heads on the seppos.
    The whites sure had some strange melons. They looked like Australians, but there was something different about them Les couldn’t quite put his finger on for the moment. Maybe it was all the different T-shirts and caps most of them wore. Les didn’t notice any Mexicans or hispanics or whatever they called themselves, but there was quite a number of blacks who all either looked like Little Richard or Whoopi Goldberg. The flight attendants were mainly women but there were two black men among them who looked big enough to form a rugby league scrum on their own. But for their size they were that polite and obliging as they showed people to their seats that Les found it almost confusing. The plane began to taxi slowly for take-off, the seat-belt sign came on, the flight attendants went through their crash drill while the pilot spoke softly over the intercom in a southern drawl.
    â€˜This is Captain Calvin Breuer. On behalf of our Atlanta-based crew we’d like to welcome you aboard Delta Flight 376. LA to Atlanta. Y’all have a nice trip.’
    Wah, thank you, Colonel, Norton chuckled to himself. Ah’d sho be obliged.
    The plane took off and Norton began leafing through the Delta inflight magazine. Before long one of the huge black stewards appeared, pushing a trolley along the aisle.
    â€˜Would you care for a beverage, suh?’ he said, turning to Norton.
    â€˜Yeah righto,’ answered Les, studying the On-Board Amenities list. ‘I’ll have a can of Pawberry Punch thanks.’
    â€˜Certainly, suh.’
    It was some flat, purple-coloured drink made from pulped up cherry cocktails and it tasted like shit. Ohh yuk! grimaced Les. How crook’s that? Norton placed the can and the plastic drink container on the fold-up tray belonging to the empty seat on his left and stared into space for a minute. He was going to read some more of his book, but decided it was more fun just staring into space. Not reading, not thinking, not sleeping. Not doing anything. Just staring ahead. After an eon or so Norton finally started thinking again. Only two thoughts. Just, where the fuck am I? And, have I got another nine-hour plane trip in front of me or do I go through another time zone? What the…?
    Norton was still staring into the cosmos when the smell of hot food began wafting from somewhere out of the time tunnel. One of the female flight attendants appeared pushing a trolley. She asked did Les want beef, fish or chicken? Norton went for the chicken, and a can of… Dr Pepper. He also asked what time it was now in Florida. The girl told him and Les put his watch forward three hours. He now didn’t have a clue what time it was in Australia or how long he’d been travelling. Les shook his head and started on his first taste of American airline food. The chicken was wrapped in bacon and came with rice, green beans and a salad with something called Ranch Dressing for you to slop on it. It definitely wasn’t the best feed Norton had ever had. The drink this time was the same purple-coloured, glazed cherry-tasting shit as before, only it had gas in it. Still, Norton ate nearly all of the meal then put what was left on the tray next to himand resumed staring into space. He was still staring into space when they landed in Atlanta at around 10.30.
    Norton filed off the plane to pick up his connecting flight to Tampa, Florida. Although he still didn’t have a clue where he was and he was still half dazed, Les felt a lot