The plane engines hummed their monotonous tune , reassuring me and
yet annoying me in equal measures. I closed my eyes, stretched out my long,
tired legs and tried to sleep. But the knowledge that my tray table was
cluttered with empty airline food containers prevent me from relaxing fully,
stopping sleep in its tracks. The old man across the aisle was fidgeting
noisily in his seat. I wearily opened one eye to see what he was up to. I
watched him carefully clean the last dregs of coffee out of his cup and then,
looking around to check no cabin crew were near, he slipped it unnoticed in to
his bag, a boyish sparkle belying his age in his eyes. This obviously wasn't
the first time he'd done this but what was the point of stealing a small
plastic cup? I must have taken over 300 flights in my lifetime and I'd never
seen the like before. But he wasn't finished.
He turned to me.
'Can I?' he said in heavily accented English looking at my empty cup.
I shrugged, I had nothing against it but I wasn't going to be complicit in his actions. He picked it up, used his napkin again to make sure there was no coffee left and again expertly slipped it into his bag, a mischievous look crossing his elderly face.
I wondered if the cabin crew would notice the missing cups as they collected the rubbish, but if they did, they didn't say anything, so it had been the perfect crime; no one had got hurt and no one seemed to care.
But I couldn't just sit there and let him get away with it; I had to know why. I leant over, smelling tobacco on his clothes, and asked him.
‘It's my brother,’ he said. ‘He works in the factory that makes these cups.’ His English was good but his accent was thick and so it was a strain to hear him above the hum of the engines. ‘Budget airlines use paper cups so demand is going down, people are losing their jobs.’
He turned to me.
'Can I?' he said in heavily accented English looking at my empty cup.
I shrugged, I had nothing against it but I wasn't going to be complicit in his actions. He picked it up, used his napkin again to make sure there was no coffee left and again expertly slipped it into his bag, a mischievous look crossing his elderly face.
I wondered if the cabin crew would notice the missing cups as they collected the rubbish, but if they did, they didn't say anything, so it had been the perfect crime; no one had got hurt and no one seemed to care.
But I couldn't just sit there and let him get away with it; I had to know why. I leant over, smelling tobacco on his clothes, and asked him.
‘It's my brother,’ he said. ‘He works in the factory that makes these cups.’ His English was good but his accent was thick and so it was a strain to hear him above the hum of the engines. ‘Budget airlines use paper cups so demand is going down, people are losing their jobs.’
I smiled
‘So you steal the cups to keep your brother in work?’
He nodded, that cheeky grin returning to his face.
So now any time I can, I too clean the coffee out of the cup and slip it expertly into my bag, hoping to keep the man with the cheeky grin's brother in gainful employment.
‘So you steal the cups to keep your brother in work?’
He nodded, that cheeky grin returning to his face.
So now any time I can, I too clean the coffee out of the cup and slip it expertly into my bag, hoping to keep the man with the cheeky grin's brother in gainful employment.
:-) nice
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