I finish work early on the Friday, say my goodbyes to the other half (at work with me) and head home to finish off the packing and tidying up of the flat along with a quick dinner before closing all the doors (not sure why you have to do that, something to do with safety but I just know that I have to do it) and heading off.
I'm running ten minutes behind schedule and the District Line has minor delays. So I'm a bit hot and sweaty pulling my bag along the road. At one point I walk down a bit where the pavement narrows and someone barges past me. I couldn't get out of the way as I'm knackered pulling my holdall along so I look up to see what that was all about and he starts on me!
"Come on then!", he says. A woman walks past and gives the bloke a wide berth. He's itching for some trouble! I turn away from him and carry on my trudge towards the station. Thankfully I don't hear him again. *sigh*
It's a bit touch-and-go and I feel pressured enough with only a few minutes to go to catch the Gatwick Express. In the end I make it, hotter and sweatier with just three minutes to spare!
The train is mostly empty and, more importantly, air conditioned so, in thirty minutes, I'm cool and relaxed.Arriving at Gatwick I'm shocked to see a queue the length of the terminal full of African people each with trolleys fully laden down with luggage. I remember a friend of mine telling me how flights to certain destinations are the most profitable simply because of the excess baggage charges and I finally understand what he means! I'm expecting to see a few kitchen sinks strapped onto the back of the huge tea chest size bits of luggage that people are taking with them!
I follow the queue along hoping upon hope that it's not for my flight. A huge wave of relief floods over me as I see that my check in desk is next to the one from where the queue has originated and that there is in fact no queue whatsoever for my check in. I want to jump for joy but am too knackered and don't want to look like a nutter. (Especially in an airport.)
"Would you please fit your hand luggage into that box", says the man at the flight desk. I look behind me. He's pointing at what looks like a box that someone knocked up in woodwork class. I walk over to it and push my rucksack in. It doesn't fit. I measured my bag before heading off and it matched the allowed dimensions perfectly. But stuffed with my laptop, camera, books and assorted other stuff, it barely goes in three inches. Now if I could re-arrange it, I'm sure it'd fit...
I look over to the check in guy. He's talking to someone and not paying attention. So I grab my rucksack and walk back. He looks back at me. "Did it fit?", he asks. "Yeah, sure", I say. He hands over my passport and boarding card. "Have a nice flight", he says. "Thanks", I reply as I walk away trying to make my rucksack look as small as possible by not hoisting it onto my back until I'm around the corner. *Phew!*
But despite this, from the time that I arrived at the airport to the time that I had gone through security with my hand luggage, only 20 minutes had passed. Result! Unfortunately the queues in WHSmith and Boots to buy water (which we can't take through security due to restrictions on liquid goods) are phenomenal and it takes me about 15 mins to sort myself out and pay for a bottle and some snacks for the journey.
A quick stop to the gents, and my flight is called and I'm surprised to find people already boarding by the time that I've reached the gate. So I'm basically physically on the plane less than an hour after arriving at the airport itself which isn't too bad.
The flight leaves on time too with only a fat sweaty guy arriving late just before the doors closed. The two seats next to me are empty. I pray that he isn't heading towards them. He doesn't *phew* and I shift to the seat on my left to give me an empty seat on either side of me.
I spot two girls to my right (Who turn out to be Rachel & Sarah) going through the Exodus itinerary and I introduce myself to them. Can't spot anyone else with Exodus logos anywhere on
them though.
I then proceed to spill water all over myself as the cap of my bottle opens prematurely on me as I try to drink it, spill coke onto my tray table and then cut my finger with the sharp serrated edge of the plastic fork we get given for dinner. Great start to the holiday!
The seat is bloody hard and uncomfortable but I surprise myself by actually getting some shut eye on the flight by alternately sleeping on my sides.
Left bum cheek then right bum cheek....
1 comment:
I knew that plastic cutlery would be a danger to somebody some day. After 9/11, the airports and the flight companies were all up in arms about not carrying sharp objects in their hand luggage for the safety of the passengers. Safety of the passengers? Those plastic knives and forks will be doing more damage before the contents of someone's hand luggage does!
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