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I recently received a text offering to pick me up at Aberdeen City Airport later this week where I'll be touring.

I haven’t responded, not just because I hate texts and will find a million things to do before replying to one, but because it’s anyone’s guess at what cost the offer comes.

Is he truly just an altruistic geezer who thought it would be a kind gesture to offer to pick me up?
Or does he assume that I know the drill … that for the chauffeur driven ...

Sweet mother of god! I am seriously fucked? Why you ask, well allow me to extrapolate. I am on my way to the fair city of Glasgow, the home of the incomprehensible Scots. Now, it is my first time to this city in a work capacity. I am well aware from past experience that the accented English with which they speak can be some what difficult to understand to their own country men, much less a bonny American lass like myself. So, I hit upon a plan with which to circumvent the necessity to have to talk ...