I have worked for the United Nations for over two decades ? a job that has taken me to the far ends of the earth by air. On a flight from Mauritius to Nairobi recently, I checked into Air Mauritius to be told that I was 4 kgs overweight. I assumed the person behind the counter was referring to my luggage and not an observation on my waistline. Based on my international travel experience, I immediately expressed willingness to pay the excess fee. I was promptly informed this was not possible. I had to physically extract the five offending kgs. «And put them where ?» I asked incredulously. The supervisor shrugged, with a glint in his eye reminiscent of Shylock claiming his pound of flesh. «Go buy luggage !» he snapped, «last shop on the left». I returned to the counter dutifully bearing the only piece of luggage available in the entire airport ? a tente bazar. Then, in full view of the other passengers, and much to the lively amusement of the handling staff , I transferred, item by item, intimate clothing to the basket. Socks, swimwear, underpants, once snug in the latest Samsonite, were now bundled unceremoniously into crudely woven wickerwork originally designed for chouchou.

Fortunately, I have always maintained high standards when it comes to underwear. Not soaring inflation nor rises in fuel prices nor global warming have prevented me from purchasing only the best in intimate clothing. But little did I realise that one day my Calvin Klein briefs and Hugo Boss Y ? fronts would find a captive audience at a busy airport.

I dedicate this letter to Shift Supervisor A.D., Defender of the Freight, Master of the Rule Book and Purveyor of Underwear. You make me proud to be a Mauritian ? the old-fashioned kind that still values customer service, common sense and courtesy.

Rodney PHILIPS