On this trip, trust and baggage went missing. Only my disdain survived

After offering this impenetrable tosh to explain why you’re trapped in an aluminium sarcophagus with a herd of fresh enemies, they always add the epilogue, “We thank you for your understanding”. They love that, airlines, the outrageous pretence that we understand, and forgive. It’s their greatest insult, the rancid cherry atop their shit hill of disregard. We thank you for your understanding. Well, I don’t understand. I despise. Try announcing, “We understand your despisal.” Use it as your company slogan. Whack it on a billboard. Stencil it on your empennage.

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In Doha we had to strip down for a security check and go through scanners as we got off a plane, as if the Qataris suspect themselves of serving sacs of Semtex with their perplexing breakfasts. But, hell, nothing makes sense in airports. They’re the epicentre of chaos, anxiety and misanthropy in any city.

At journey’s end I linger by the carousel with the ebbing faith of a monk gazing skyward for the second coming. The Earth turns, as does the carousel. Two thousand years now – and my valise is in Greece, my duffle’s in Brussels and my backpack’s in Hackensack … only my disdain has arrived on time, undefiled and understandable.

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