We’re back… after what I would say was the worst flight of my life. Yes, even worse than when Immy (aged 3) weed on me on the way back from Bali, and that wasn’t good but at least it was short.
It started off okay. We got to Dublin airport in plenty of time – did our souvenir shopping and then sat down for a snack and then for some reason completely missed our boarding call and ended up being named – oh the shame – we ran the length of the airport and were the last on the flight. Embarrassment.
Then we had a six hour wait in Manchester which was okay. We caught the train into the city and had a lovely couple of hours in the Christmas Fair drinking excellent German beer (started with an E) and sausages and pancakes – yum.
Again got back in plenty of time and caught the flight to Dubai. I didn’t sleep on the flight thinking that I’d be able to sleep on the last leg. This was a mistake.
Got to Dubai. It’s a huge airport but bizarrely there are NO visual displays of boarding times and gates. We had three hours so I found the “quiet lounge” and fell asleep on a chair with our bags while Rory shopped. I woke up to the sounds of the final boarding call. But no gate number! And I couldn’t see a display anywhere and I couldn’t find Rory (who cooincidentally was lining up at the one Information Booth to find out about our flight – but I didn’t know that).
So I stand in the corridor – starting to panic – and then figure that he’ll have to get to the gate eventually – so I go up to another gate, thrust the boarding pass under their nose and ask where to go. I get to the gate – no Rory – and ask them to page him and say the gate number… well he’s paged… but would have been hard pressed to recognise his name – and no gate number. We’ll now we’re five minutes from take off time. I’ve become completely hysterical (very unusual for me – must have been overtired) and finally there he is.
We get on the flight. You’d think after all this time I’d be able to sleep but I can’t and I just get more and more tired and it’s horrible and I’m horrible and I’m stuck there irrationally just wanting it all to stop.
Eventually I see someone who has had four seats wake up and I ask him to swap with me so I can sleep – which he does… and finally I sleep.
I’m usually a good traveller so this flight was a surprise to me. I can’t explain why it was so bad but I will be thinking very carefully before flying that way again. Maybe it was the really long leg at the end of two connecting flights. When you go through Singapore you get the long flight in the middle, maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep on the first leg, maybe it’s that nice beer I had in Manchester. Whatever it was it certainly spoilt the end of what had been a fantastic holiday.