This is possibly the earliest I've ever written a blog, but sitting in Geneva airport there is little else to do unless I intend to spend my life's savings on a sandwich. Marty is asleep by a wall, and after reading too many 'The Walking Dead' graphic novels in recent times, I feel I should stay awake to keep watch. I know how them zombies work and I'm fairly sure that they are just waiting for the moment both of us are having some shut eye before attacking and wiping out the world. Its entirely this sort of thinking that says I really really just need some sleep. I hate this early morning haze of having to head home. The delirious nature of having woken up at 5.30am just to get to the airport seems surreal now, but I now that when I'm falling into a coma at the wheel of my car round the M1 later tonight, stressing about doing an hour to 4 people (that's all the tickets that have sold. Sigh) that I haven't even written yet, I will look back at now and really wish I'd taken Marty's initiative. Its depressing to know that a mere hour ago I was staring out of the window at huge expanses of lakes and the snowy peaks of the Alps, and by 7pm I'll be staring at the entire lack of parking spaces in Leicester. To say this job has peaks and troughs would be an understatement. Nothing against Leicester of course, but most places would pale in comparison to mountains. They tend to do that. Ultimately they are the natural ego bursters of the world. It doesn't matter what humankind builds of designs, stick it next to a mountain and it'll look shit. Sure some mountains look better than others, but then you enter a whole world of different environmental top trumps and it all starts to come down to key points such as wildlife, ski pistes, how terrifying it is to drive fast round at night, if anyone's sung about it and other such things.
Last night was the first ever comedy gig in Tignes, a little resort in the breathtaking scenery opposite Val d'Isere. Its nice to know that I was part of the group that have brought laughter to such a place, and I like to believe that until our arrival, everyone was frowning with despair, hearing only about laughter as some sort of myth. Of course the truth is they have pretty amazing lives out there and so instead the notion of some dudes saying some funny stuff took a few go's to get their attention. I wasn't best pleased with my post hangover gig, but a lot of people said nice things, and Marty and Craig rocked it, so it seemed a suitable way to end the run. As Craig said when Rich paid us at the end, we really do do an amazing job when you can hang out in one of the greatest ski resorts on the planet for several days, tell jokes to lovely people and then get money for it. Its actually somewhat ridiculous and part of me is terrified about typing this up incase anyone finds out and puts a stop to it.
As we waited to leave I stood around thinking about having to come back home with slight disdain and watching a man do the worst uprocking I've ever seen a human attempt. Yet this had still gathered a crowd of happy people. I fought against all stupid notions of showing him how it was done, knowing full well that a) I'd be seen as being a cock, b) we were leaving soon and why should I ruin his fun? and c) I was extremely tired and would probably not do it very well anyway, therefore doubling the dick quota of the evening. While I stood there and watched I was approached by a lovely seasonaire who started talking to me about the gig. As previously stated, these people spend a vast sum of their years in an awesome place working with awesome people and are generally chilled out and awesome. I don't want to pretend I have favourites or anything but seasonaires are right up there with the Norwegians. At some point I will have to top trump them against each other knowing full well seasonaires don't have a national anthem or brown cheese and ultimately will sadly lose. This girl, upon asking my name, exclaimed that her brother was also called Tiernan. He is an officer in Afganistan, and has only been out there for a few months. I was extremely pleased to know about another Tiernan in the world, and despite not being a war advocator in anyway wished him all the best of Tiernan luck out there. Oddly I know another Tiernan that I may well meet for the first time in Leicester tonight. I like to think this uber collection of Tiernan's are what will make the transcendence from here to the Midlands that little bit easier. Go network of Tiernans. Together we can make the world more Tiernanish. No, I have no idea what that means either.
My gate's opened - no that's not a euphemism - so must go. I don't want to be one of these people that rushes unnecessarily towards the home run, but I'm keen to elaborate on my Geneva air port top trump list. So far I didn't have to take off my shoes at security - thats a SECURITY 7, in comparison to, for example, LONDON LUTON SECURITY 4 or OSLO SECURITY 9. But they only have a 3 on departure lounge chairs so far and a bottle of coke from the machine is 5 euros so that gets minus points. Oh dear god. This is what's happened to me. I've departed extreme sports and extreme scenery to throw myself into an airport rating system. Leicester, I think you can welcome me back to the world of normal with open arms. Sigh.