Gonna be here for awhile? Grab a snickers.
As I stumbled into the bathroom, I glanced at the clock. 6.47AM. I tried to remembered to events of the
pervious night, let alone the previous day, all of which are rather fuzzy. I do
know that my dad is officially married for the third time and that now I have 9
brothers and sisters. However, he seemed happy so Im happy for him. Having a
biscuit and a cup of tea, I was off with my bags (thrown together the previous
night which highly inhebriated), passport, train tickets and plane tickets.
Arriving at the train station...
I am informed that some train tracks are undergoing maintenance making my journey another hour or so longer with many changes along the way. I stood there dumbfounded as the man told me what I was to do for the next 2 and ½ hours for optimum use of time. Train from Cambridge to Royston, bus from there to Hitchin, train from there to Finsbury Park, then the “tube” or underground to London Victoria, then train to Gatwick airport. Would have been nice if there actually had been a train from Hitchin to Finsbury Park, but with many other buses and trains, I finally arrived at Gatwick International Airport. Thinking things would be a breeze from here I sighed in relief. Little did I know that my troubles were just beginning.
Sitting down at the lounge after going through the always fun security check, I pull out my recently purchased MAXIM magazine and sigh again as I browse the cleverly written articles and glance at the gorgeous women that inhabited the magazine. An announcement comes over the loudspeaker that makes my heart sink, “Attention passengers of flight US99 with service to Philadelphia. Our mechanics have discovered a technical difficulty and are doing all they can to remedy the problem. Due to the severity of the situation, the flight will be delayed until approximately 5pm. Please stand-by for further updates.” After much badgering I find out this “technical difficulty” is a broken air conditioner and they didn’t have a spare one at Gatwick so they had to fly a plane over to Hethrow Airport to get an extra one…I’ve lost all hope for humanity.
I throw my magazine on the seat next to me and hang my head. People say everything happens for a reason and I have believed that up until now. Unless I meet my future wife because of this delay, God is gonna get quite a talkin’ to.
Ugh. I just want to go home…
Despite all the alcohol consumption from the previous day, I sit here at Gatwick airport with a snickers bar and a pint of Guiness bubbling in the other. Fuck it all.
Once on the flight, settled in comfortably the captain immediately states that additional fuel is required and hence another 20 minute wait is necessary, but after 5 hours, what’s another 20 minutes!?!
I start wondering if this trip is worth this hassle. I suppose it could have been worse, but then again, it could have been a bit better. Im less comforted by the fact that I will be returning to this airport and jolly old England in December for a month to spend with my new family. OOOH I cant fucking wait.
Is it bad that I find one of my new step-sisters very attractive?
While waiting I try to calculate my weekend total intake of alcohol…at least what I remember..
Weekend total: 7.5 pints of beer/ 4 bottles of beer/ 5 glasses of wine/ 5 glasses of champagne/ 1 gin & tonic
This 20 minute wait of course turns into another fucking 45 minutes of bullshit. “Well folks…we’ll soon be on our way…just 5 more minutes”
At this point, I wish a) I had a cigarette b) that I was a smoker c) that I could smoke on the small cramped airplane.
Can life get better? I submit that it cannot!
I get to Philedelphia International Airport with a sigh of relief. It was only 6 hours later than the original estimated arrival time, but I was still glad to be somewhat home. Unsurprisingly, yet quite conviently there are no flights to Newport News tonight. Fantastic! Theres a flight tomorrow morning at 8.20. They give me vouchers for a hotel room, dinner & breakfast and send me on my way. After I get over my original shock and panic, I go with the flow and assure myself that everything will be fine and dandy, ill get home in time for my first class tomorrow. No worries. HA!
That night I lay in the rather large neatly tucked bed staring at the intricate design on the ceiling. The events of the day zipping through my head, I looked around the room. I had never had a hotel room to myself before. It was an odd feeling.
My spritely alarm goes off at 6.30. Plently of time to get the “free” breakfast, get to the airport and on my flight and be home in time for class. Sipping my coffee at 6.49, I tell the rather old gangly looking lady that I want the all American breakfast, consisting of the stereotypical eggs, bacon, potatoes and muffin.
Glancing at my phone after what feels like hours later, I start to feel agitated. 7.21. She comes out of the kitchen with my food and a smile on her face. A smile that is almost too big for her face, I suspect Prozac. I tell her that she needs to make this “to go” she keeps the smile on and returns to the kitchen. 7.29. She comes out with my food in the cheap styrofoam container and a receipt. “your voucher was only good for $5, so your total is $3.75.” No money one me except for a few pounds, which I assumed they wouldn’t accept. My heart sank again. Thank the good lord for my credit card.
After running with my bags to the actual terminal, I suppose there are two US Airways terminals, conviently placed on opposite sides of the airport, I start getting religious. A few minutes later I hear the words that make my heart sink lower than it has in a long time. “You cant check any more bags at this time. You missed the bag check in for that flight by 5 minutes. We can book you on the next flight…”
No. Oh no. There must be some mistake
“Oh, there’s no mistake”
Having another snickers and what should have been a pint of beer, I swear once again.
Arriving at the train station...
I am informed that some train tracks are undergoing maintenance making my journey another hour or so longer with many changes along the way. I stood there dumbfounded as the man told me what I was to do for the next 2 and ½ hours for optimum use of time. Train from Cambridge to Royston, bus from there to Hitchin, train from there to Finsbury Park, then the “tube” or underground to London Victoria, then train to Gatwick airport. Would have been nice if there actually had been a train from Hitchin to Finsbury Park, but with many other buses and trains, I finally arrived at Gatwick International Airport. Thinking things would be a breeze from here I sighed in relief. Little did I know that my troubles were just beginning.
Sitting down at the lounge after going through the always fun security check, I pull out my recently purchased MAXIM magazine and sigh again as I browse the cleverly written articles and glance at the gorgeous women that inhabited the magazine. An announcement comes over the loudspeaker that makes my heart sink, “Attention passengers of flight US99 with service to Philadelphia. Our mechanics have discovered a technical difficulty and are doing all they can to remedy the problem. Due to the severity of the situation, the flight will be delayed until approximately 5pm. Please stand-by for further updates.” After much badgering I find out this “technical difficulty” is a broken air conditioner and they didn’t have a spare one at Gatwick so they had to fly a plane over to Hethrow Airport to get an extra one…I’ve lost all hope for humanity.
I throw my magazine on the seat next to me and hang my head. People say everything happens for a reason and I have believed that up until now. Unless I meet my future wife because of this delay, God is gonna get quite a talkin’ to.
Ugh. I just want to go home…
Despite all the alcohol consumption from the previous day, I sit here at Gatwick airport with a snickers bar and a pint of Guiness bubbling in the other. Fuck it all.
Once on the flight, settled in comfortably the captain immediately states that additional fuel is required and hence another 20 minute wait is necessary, but after 5 hours, what’s another 20 minutes!?!
I start wondering if this trip is worth this hassle. I suppose it could have been worse, but then again, it could have been a bit better. Im less comforted by the fact that I will be returning to this airport and jolly old England in December for a month to spend with my new family. OOOH I cant fucking wait.
Is it bad that I find one of my new step-sisters very attractive?
While waiting I try to calculate my weekend total intake of alcohol…at least what I remember..
Weekend total: 7.5 pints of beer/ 4 bottles of beer/ 5 glasses of wine/ 5 glasses of champagne/ 1 gin & tonic
This 20 minute wait of course turns into another fucking 45 minutes of bullshit. “Well folks…we’ll soon be on our way…just 5 more minutes”
At this point, I wish a) I had a cigarette b) that I was a smoker c) that I could smoke on the small cramped airplane.
Can life get better? I submit that it cannot!
I get to Philedelphia International Airport with a sigh of relief. It was only 6 hours later than the original estimated arrival time, but I was still glad to be somewhat home. Unsurprisingly, yet quite conviently there are no flights to Newport News tonight. Fantastic! Theres a flight tomorrow morning at 8.20. They give me vouchers for a hotel room, dinner & breakfast and send me on my way. After I get over my original shock and panic, I go with the flow and assure myself that everything will be fine and dandy, ill get home in time for my first class tomorrow. No worries. HA!
That night I lay in the rather large neatly tucked bed staring at the intricate design on the ceiling. The events of the day zipping through my head, I looked around the room. I had never had a hotel room to myself before. It was an odd feeling.
My spritely alarm goes off at 6.30. Plently of time to get the “free” breakfast, get to the airport and on my flight and be home in time for class. Sipping my coffee at 6.49, I tell the rather old gangly looking lady that I want the all American breakfast, consisting of the stereotypical eggs, bacon, potatoes and muffin.
Glancing at my phone after what feels like hours later, I start to feel agitated. 7.21. She comes out of the kitchen with my food and a smile on her face. A smile that is almost too big for her face, I suspect Prozac. I tell her that she needs to make this “to go” she keeps the smile on and returns to the kitchen. 7.29. She comes out with my food in the cheap styrofoam container and a receipt. “your voucher was only good for $5, so your total is $3.75.” No money one me except for a few pounds, which I assumed they wouldn’t accept. My heart sank again. Thank the good lord for my credit card.
After running with my bags to the actual terminal, I suppose there are two US Airways terminals, conviently placed on opposite sides of the airport, I start getting religious. A few minutes later I hear the words that make my heart sink lower than it has in a long time. “You cant check any more bags at this time. You missed the bag check in for that flight by 5 minutes. We can book you on the next flight…”
No. Oh no. There must be some mistake
“Oh, there’s no mistake”
Having another snickers and what should have been a pint of beer, I swear once again.