As is traditional on my last day of shift, I get a lift back to the staff car park when I've finished, rather than suffer the meandering staff bus. It means I get back to my "new" kraut oil-burner 10 minutes earlier and this can make quite a difference in avoiding the worst of the A23 traffic.
The route from the North Terminal baggage hall or "Personal Effects Sortation Team (PEST)", as I call it, takes us South through the airside roads, past Pier 3, 2 and the new Pier 1, across 1 live taxiway, past the "Stillage" where all the spare baggagee bins and carts are stored and finally out through the South Security gates.
As I luxuriated in the warmth of the company Ford Focus, my driver commenting on the level of fuckwittery displayed by some of our new starters, I noticed movement within the Stillage. My driver clocked it too.
A woman. Holding a baby.
1/4 a mile away from the South Security gates, from which lots of flashing lights were suddenly heading our way.
My driver and I swung in to the Stillage and jumped out, cornering the miscreant. As we approached her she darted left, right and realising she had nowhere to go, she did the only thing she could. She threw her baby. At me.
As a full-back in rugby, I've never dropped a ball. But I dropped this one
Security then arrived, checked our security passes and told us to leave.
I'm drinking beer now.