False starts

Well, jolly japes at VYR today and I'm back sleeping in my own bed tonight.

Having left for the airport after Battlestar Galactica, a ten minute-ish journey traffic willing, and it was, I was somewhat surprised to see a long, long, long queue for check-in. Now, Brits, as everyone knows, all bond in times of communal irritation, so we all started talking to each other, know each others' life histories, little did we know.....


The computer system was down, so everyone was being checked in with slate, stylus and gas lamp.


When finally we were at the security gate, approximately five minutes before the scheduled take-off time, security were having a VERY THOROUGH day. We all dash to the departure gate, no stopping for Duty Free and straight onto the plane. Where we all sat for three hours until the Portugese ???? crew decided the engine was sooooo fucked that we couldn't take off. Throughout this time we were kept well updated...oh no, sorry that's right, NO-ONE bothered to tell us a sodding thing, but of course we'd all bonded at check-in so we were singing songs like 'Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag' and 'It's a long way to Tipperary' while holding each others' shoulders and swaying from side to side.


Finally a rep from 'My Travel' boards and tells us that we are going to be de-planed and escorted through the airport where a bus would be waiting for us to take us to our hotels. Before that however, we were going to be fed. So the crew bring out some lukewarm shepherd's pie and before anyone could have finished eating, we were given the bum's rush off the plane. I am then in a farcical chase with the rep round our bit of the plane to ask what was supposed to happen to those of us who wished to go home for the night. I needn't have bothered since there was in fact no-one to escort us, no-one to tell anyone what to do. It was bloody shambolic.

I'm going to bed, have to be back at YVR at 9 tomorrow. For now I'm drinking BC wine. Bottoms up.