If you ever worked on the ramp at Pearson, you remember him — Mike King. Not because of the reflective vest (though his had extra shine from daily polishing), or the British accent smoother than a Heathrow tannoy announcement, but because this guy packed more jobs into one life than a lav truck during Spring Break in Cancun.
Chapter One: From Gumshoe to Load Shoe
Mike once served as a Hong Kong police officer, wore a badge, chased down pickpockets, and still had time for afternoon tea and dramatic pause. Colleagues called him “Dick Tracy with an Oxford dictionary.” When he moved to Canada, he joined Customs, cracked mysteries, and just for kicks, dabbled in private investigation.
What was he investigating?
“The Case of the Disappearing Danish,” he’d mumble, pen behind his ear.
Chapter Two: The Newsstand Ninja
Mike had a spooky skill: he always had your paper.
Want the New York Times? He had it.
London Mirror? Already folded and ready.
Someone once asked sarcastically,
“Got this morning’s Bangkok Bugle?”
Mike silently reached into his vest pocket like it was Mary Poppins’ purse. Out came the Bugle.
He didn’t hoard. He curated.
Sorted by date, region, and quality of crossword.
Chapter Three: The Can Cram King
Mike wasn’t just multilingual — he spoke fluent baggage.
Others gave up after 32 bags in a container.
Mike would stare at it, grunt like a monk unlocking a kung fu scroll, then repack it with geometrical precision.
Load Agents nicknamed him “The Baggage Tetris Master.”
One legendary shift:
75 bags in a single can.
The Load Agent blurted: “Remove 25!”
Mike’s face? Redder than a Mountie in the sauna.
He removed one… then fit 24 back in sideways.
Rumor says MIT sent people to study the maneuver.
Chapter Four: “Don’t Blame Me, I Was Only Riding Pillion”
Ah yes, the Lav Truck Collision of ’03.
Mike was the innocent passenger on a ramp tractor when it tapped a lav truck with all the grace of a blind rhino.
He hops off, brushes off his sleeves, and coolly says:
“Don’t blame me — I was only riding pillion.”
The ramp crew paused.
“Pillion?”
They thought it was a new international airport code or an IKEA shelf.
Final Chapter: The Gentleman of the G-20 Gates
Mike King wasn’t just a ramp guy — he was a walking G7 summit.
Polite, multilingual, and probably reading Le Monde with one hand while loading oversize skis with the other.
He could communicate with pilots, customs officers, wayward tourists, and the snack machine—flawlessly.
And when Mike finally left the ramp and returned to the UK, we didn’t say farewell.
We said:
“Cheers, Mike. Save us a copy of next week’s Economist.”
