The Amy Winehouse Experience.

I was waiting in the waiting area at the airport for my flight to be called. Over the PA system came the dulcet tones of a rather inebriated Amy Winehouse, instructing the passengers of her flight to congregate outside, through the double glass doors.

I, and about ten others, filed out like sheep into what could only be described as a school playground, the familiar markings laid out in yellow paint.

As we waited, a small charter plain appeared from around the side of the building, taxiing wildly from side to side and into the centre of the playground.

There she was, hanging out of the plane's window, hair unravelling from the lobsided bee hive that perched atop her head, plastered in make-up and shouting at the top of her voice. The plane at this point was going round and round in circles in front of us, Amy screaming "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" for all the world to hear.

Dubiously and with trepidation we all waited for the whirlwind plane to come to a halt, then climbed aboard to see what fate had in store for us.

Amy stood in the middle of the plane, welcoming us in her own unique way, and asked us all to put on our seat belts. I sat and stared at her for a few seconds, at which point she said "I really don't like wearing all this awful make-up, but a girl's got to keep up appearances!"

I reached for my seat belt but found that it was just a tangled mess, so i called to Amy expressing my concern. She looked at me, then the seat belt, and said "Oh, just use a pair of scissors", i looked down at my hand to find a rusty pair of scissors within my grip. "Go on then", she said, so i cut into the knotted mess, and low and behold, the seat belt was restored to working order. All the other passengers looked at me as if this occurrence was just an everyday normality, and carried on with their conversations.

The flight seemed to progress with no further bizarre encounters, until over the intercom came "Hold onto your hats my dears, we're going doooooowwwwwnnnnnnn!!"

My heart and stomach were in my mouth as the plane dove downwards at a rate of knots, the cabin filled with screaming and crying, all the while the sound of Amy Whooping and holering in excitement sending further confusion coursing through the air.

A sudden jolt, then the sound of screeching metal, we had landed, all but precariously, on the top of a mountain. "Oh dear", said Amy, as if she had only tripped over.

Then, from beyond the summit of the mountain, came our rescuing hero of the hour, my husband with a bottle of water in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

One of the many bizarre nocturnal encounters that stays in my memory for me to chuckle over from time to time.