The Gatwick Drone Debacle: Part 4

Quick recap; someone with a drone decided to ruin millions of people’s day, said angry people were shipped to Birmingham, some of said angry people then sat on a plane and yelled at their respective tiny humans for seven hours. This all made international news, and I laid out my clothes for the first time in my life after twenty-four exhausting hours of wakefulness. It shows how loopy I was. Then the email came …

I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice the email at first.

I was busy being tired.

I’d managed to roll out of bed and make myself presentable, that was about it. I had grabbed my wallet and passport (a lesson learned through a hotel fire but that’s a different story), but had left everything else up in the room. The plan was to get food, get a plane ticket, get my stuff, go home.

God must have had a proper laugh when that plan popped into my head.

I couldn’t tell you why I decided to skip breakfast. I wish I could say that it was a flash of wisdom on my part, but for some reason I distinctly remember looking at the hotel restaurant, thinking “No,” and having a sudden craving for Tim’s hot chocolate. Maybe I’d just subconsciously caught sight of the price board. Thusly dissuaded, I made my way towards the booking counter to purchase my ticket home.

The agent was very kind, and although she said that there wasn’t a whole lot she could do in terms of refunds, she told me who to speak to once I got home and managed to get me a bit of a discount. Once everything was set up and I was done profusely thanking her, she asked “Where’s your luggage?”

I answered, “In my room.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Bag check closes for that flight in fifteen minutes!”

“Oh my God, okay, I can get my bags!”

“Are you going to make it on time!?”

“Okay! I can get it! I’ll be on time I swear!” I yelled, already running full tilt back towards the hotel. I’m shocked security didn’t stop me.

By the time I came back downstairs to the hotel’s front desk to check out, there was a lineup. I abandoned all shame and asked the two people in line if they minded that I jump ahead. I explained that my flight left in fifteen minutes. Thank God for the kindness of strangers because they let me in, and the checkout was a name and handing the keys back.

I started running again. A couple of children who passed admonished me with their eyes. Thou shalt not run in the halls! Yeah well, thou also shalt not drone in the airports!

I made it to the baggage check in time, though the woman weighing my bags looked at her watch and asked “Are you going to make it through security?”

I thought to myself “If you hurry up I might!”

When she was done with my information she waved me away. “You go, I’ll do this.”

Gentle readers, don’t be like me. If you are attentive when you book your flights you will have no need to trust your luggage with strangers, nor go careening through places that ought not be careened through.

That said, one does not careen anywhere near security. I broke out my best Raymond Holt power walk, all else put out of my mind except making my flight. Until I hit the security line.

It was long. Because of course it was.

I spent the whole time fretting, hoping I’d make it, and that I wouldn’t be ‘randomly selected’ for further security. I fly often, so I’ve been selected enough times to know when it’s a truly random extra security check, and when it’s a TSA agent thinking to themselves; “Hey, that one there looks like she’s managed her time poorly, let’s further her distress.”

Thankfully security was efficient that day, I wasn’t selected, and I had a full half hour before boarding began. It was back to the old Ray Holt power walk while I searched for my gate.

When I found it I sat down immediately, dropped my bag, and heaved a sigh. I’d made it. Against all odds, I’d made it. It didn’t even bother me when the flight was delayed for an hour, and the gate was switched out.

Good, I thought, now I have time to get a hot chocolate.

I decided to check my emails while I waited in line for my delicious treat. There was only one, as luck would have it.

It informed me that the rent payment for my flat in England hadn’t gone through, and dutifully reminded me of the cliff-like late fees which I would incur in roughly eight hours time.

Bad luck, apparently.

To be continued …