Behind the Bar (Rashid)
The pilot's sitting at the bar. Quiet type. Been here a week, talking for the first time as I hand him his beer.
'My cousin, she's about this high,' points at his waist. 'She literally looks like she's twelve. Cypriot special forces. Can kill a man with her bare hands. I used to joke she should be registered as a weapon. Christ, let's not even go there,' dry chuckles. 'Last time I took her to a night club in London she threw a guy right through the wall.'
The shift over, I have a beer with him.
'Most of us are here to escape the real world,' he says. It's true.
'The real world is over-rated.' I say.