There’s far too much hugging and kissing at this time of year, Pumpkins. And not the good kind – I'm confronted with the sensible, sober kind at every turn. “Oh no, here comes Howard from accounting!” It’s all nonsense anyway because out on the street people are ready to rip the other driver’s gonads out through his nostrils. Temper, temper.
And it’s no wonder, dahrlings. Not only do we have to take care of our office boys, buy gifts for friends, families, baristas, sommeliers, weight lifters and such, we also have to make sure our clients make it through the airport without getting stuck in a snowstorm or lose a child or something. Honestly, they really are a helpless lot.
What’s worse is that the tour ops are making huggy nice. Transat is making money. Sunwing is making more. ACV is muscling along with rouge. WestJet is muscling in on Porter – thankfully throwing a bit of naughty into the mix. Overall, Bah, boring. With no sign of bloody pricing in sight, I may as well hibernate through this winter season.
But before I crawl into my wine cellar, I should like to take a moment to wish each and every dear Pumpkin a gift box under the tree, a roast in the oven and a scotch in each hand. Kiss kiss!
