The Journey....

The brain is no longer mushy, so I can now recount the most stressful journey I’ve ever had to Heathrow and blog how I nearly missed my flight home. Independent factors combined forces to thwart my journey to the world’s most hated airport.

First, it was raining. Not just pitter-patter but pissing down rain.  Yeah, look I can deal with rain.  Rain isn’t anything new.  Next, the person using our rented Streetcar returned our car 15 minutes late.  Grrrrrrr…. Smee and I loaded up my luggage and began the drive westbound.  Unfortunately, it seemed the rest of London needed to go to Heathrow too.  Rain slows the traffic - we all know that - so I wasn’t terribly surprised to see a minor jam near Harrods.  However, this was a sign of things to come – from then on, cars were bumper to bumper before the M1.   Still, I’m a pretty Cool Cat and despite it being 8pm (my flight leaving at 9.55pm), I was confident that we’d get there by 8.30pm.  That would give me a comfortable 85 minutes before departure and 45 minutes before boarding.  My flight didn’t allow online check-in so I needed to also have that sorted. 

By 8.26pm we had barely covered the majority of the freeway journey, the GPS indicated that we still had 30 minutes journey time and yes, I was getting a bit antsy.  Our GPS then indicated we exit the M1 .. wtf…   I’ve only ever travelled to Heathrow on the M1!  The previous driver of our Streetcar had so kindly left us next to nothing in the petrol tank and we HAD to interrupt our drive to fill up the tank or risk breaking down.  At 8.46pm I bolted inside the servie station to pay for petrol while Smee filled up.  The attendant couldn’t have taken more time to process payment.  He had to cancel our transaction (his mistake) which involved printing off not one, but THREE receipts before he was able to re-enter our payment!  Moron!

Smee caught every light possible red traffic light on the remainder of the journey which also included driving through the most claustrophobic tunnel I’ve ever been in.  It was like driving through a 1 kilometre-long single car garage!  We pulled up to Heathrow at 9pm (55 minutes to take off!) and I made my way to the check-in counter while Smee parked the car.  Luckily there was no queue and I dumped my suitcase on the conveyor belt while the attendant began the check-in process.  She then told me “You’re not on this flight, you need to go to Counter G, not F”.  Eeek!  I pulled my suitcase off the conveyor belt and ran to Counter G. 

Again there was no queue because I WAS THE LAST PERSON TO CHECK IN.  I dumped my bag on the conveyor and was then informed that it weighed 28kg.  I knew it was heavy, I had problems dragging it into the terminal but I always intentionally over-pack (half of it were gifts!) and manage to get away with it.  I was not in the mood to be cute so I tried reasoning with the dude, I tried looking pathetic and I even kinda tried being desperate when I said ‘I have a one way ticket!’ but to no avail.  Bastard!  Either I pay £240 or re-pack 5kg from my suitcase.  Well really… there was only one option.  I heaved my suitcase off, flung open the lid and started moving stuff into Snowball, my faithful backpack.  I had no intention of taking out 5kg and put my suitcase back on the belt at 25.5kg.  “Is that fine?” I queried.   “That will do”.  It was obvious that he just really wanted to go home.  He closed the counter after giving me my ticket and a curt “You need to go to your gate NOW.” 

Smee and I ran to the security gate and the most time we had together was separated by a velvet rope as he watched me queue to present my passport to security.  There was no time for shopping, no time to pee and my departure gate was a far as it could get. 

My shoulders started to ache with the weight of Snowball on my back.  I didn’t want to find out how much she weighed but I estimate about 12kg.  I got to my gate… only to find that boarding was delayed by 10 minutes.  GRRRRRRR… well at least I wasn’t crying like the girl next to me who had been waiting at the wrong gate. 

The LHR-SIN leg was uneventful which was just GREAT!  I squeezed in two movies and got a little shut-eye.  We stopped over in Singapore which gave me enough time to clear the pipes (no time to shop as our flight was late) and begin boarding for the second leg of the journey.  Let’s just say I’m not a fan of Qantas International.  Despite being a FF member, I’ve always considered their planes a bit old, their menu a bit meh and service as nothing outstanding.  The only incentive for travelling with Qantas is my FF membership - otherwise I’ve cannot recall a flight which has won me over.  This particular leg only reiterated my less than favourable opinion.  We were informed that for the next 8 hours the entire plane would have NO INFLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT.  W…. T…. FAAAAAAAAAAARRK!?! 

I downed just enough red wine to make me sleepy and grew a zit on the plane.