I did read Gone Girl and it wasn't awful. But I might have read it in an airport lounge so I'm measuring it on the scale between the recreational sticking of discarded plastic satay sticks from the buffet into my eyeballs and eating at Sbarro's.
I really miss airport lounges. They are recreationally dull places. I'm pretty sure that when I die* that's where I'll end up. An eternal airport lounge. Not first, business, of course. So I'll have to get stuff from the buffet myself.
I once got chased by an old lady attendant for wandering into the first lounge instead of business. Come back sir, come back! Sedentary job and seventy-ish years on the clock, she was never going to catch me. But I hid in the loo for twenty minutes just in case. Not my finest twenty minutes.
I also smuggled an entire contingent of Congolese doctors into the first lounge at OR Tambo with just a giant stuffed lion toy (so big that South African gave it the empty business class next to me, bless them**). I held it up in front of the receptionist while they snuck behind me. Look, it's a lion, LOOK!
I am contemplating writing a really bad book or just my memoir.
*having been dead, I know stuff you don't. But I can't say. First thing that happens when you're dead is the NDA, just in case they revive you. Let's just say that where I went, they have lawyers there. Pretty much all of them. Excellent barbecue though.
**after the first couple of times of answering the question 'is that for your kid?' with 'no, me' it proved expedient to say 'yes, she's four.' Unfortunately, once you invent a child, you have to stick with it, so don't do it when you're trapped on a plane for ten hours with the person you gave that answer to.