Angel In Exile

What a lovely plane, says Belle, looking out onto the tarmac. Pink and purple! Look, Arthur.

But Arthur is looking at Proust.

Eyelids like egg shells, dark eyebrows, hair parted almost in the middle, a stray black curl escaping.

From under eggshell eyelids Proust evaluates Arthur.

Pale blue eyes, shot with dark blue, unruly hair, scabby knees, dirty shorts with deep saggy pockets.

An angel in exile.

I'm coming with you to Bucharest, says Arthur.

But you don't have a ticket, says Gaius. Or do you?

I do, says Arthur. A stand-by.

Proust is impressed.

He would be less impressed to know how Arthur came by it.

Last call!

Bye now! says Belle. Have a lovely time in your poisonous cave!

The three adventurers board the Wizz Air Flight to Bucharest. One has no luggage.

The flight attendants love passengers who board without luggage.

Arthur is upgraded. And offered a complimentary drink.

Gaius and Proust sit in narrow seats with inadequate legroom.

Look at that, says Gaius. The lad leads a charmed existence. I wonder though, why he's coming?

I should like to think that he's coming in order to get to know me better, says Proust, but that cannot be the case as he had purchased his stand-by ticket before he laid eyes on me, eyes which I must admit are inscrutable.

That was a very long sentence, says Gaius.

Point taken, says Proust. No doubt he's coming to be of assistance to you.

Hmm. I usually have to persuade him, says Gaius.

The Wizz Air flight takes off. The snacks trolley comes round. You have to pay for everything, even the water.

No thanks, says Gaius. Too much water, and I might feel a pressing need to go to the toilet.

Very wise, says Proust. I believe once a Wizz Air passenger was told they could not go to the toilet.

How do you know this? asked Gaius. Were you on board yourself? Were you also prevented?

Trip Advisor, says Proust.

Ah, says Gaius. Have you made this trip often?

Never, says Proust.

I was under the impression that you knew about this cave from experience, says Gaius.

Wikipedia, says Proust. You would be surprised how much information is available at the tip of one's fingers as one lies comfortably in bed eating asparagus and beef-in-jelly.

 I imagine I would be, says Gaius.

What I know about this cave, says Proust, would fill volumes.

Do go on, as I know very little, says Gaius.

In 1986, says Proust, a group of communist workers were checking out a barren plain not far from the Black Sea coast, to see if it would be suitable for a power plant, when they stumbled on the cave.

How fortuitous, says Gaius. Or maybe not, if it meant no power plant.

No doubt the power plant ended up somewhere, says Proust. So, the first person to make the dangerous descent was the Romanian scientist Cristian Lascu. Since then it has been sealed by the authorities and less than one hundred people have been allowed down there.

And you have permission! says Gaius. How did you manage it?

I don't have permission, says Proust.  Not yet. But I can be very persuasive. Watch this. Steward!

A flight attendant stops on her way to the front of the plane with a tray of hot donuts.

I don't suppose, says Proust, opening wide his eggshell-like eyelids, that I could have one of those donuts, in exchange for a card trick? I am a trained clown.

Sorry, smiles the flight attendant. These are for the lovely young man up the front there...