DAY FOURTEEN: Leaving On A Jet Plane. Or Not...

While many of my little experiLents so far have been the product of much consideration and organisation, Day 14's new accomplishment was entirely unplanned.  In fact, it was something I would never actually do willingly, for the risk of looking like an absolute pillock.

I missed my flight.  #whatanidiot

Although Day 13 promised some inactivity on here while I made a fleeting visit to Budapest (more on this later), my vacation was very nearly over before it even began.  There I was: 7.30am, Stansted airport, boarding pass in one hand, passport in the other.  The flight was due to leave at 8.25am, check-in closing half an hour before.  Casually and coolly, therefore, I decided to treat myself to some breakfast.  A Full English and orange juice?  Don’t mind if I do!

Half an hour later, and I slowly meander towards the gate.  With my full stomach, I was finally beginning to wake up.  At which point I see that there is no queue whatsoever at the departure gate.  Did I have the whole flight to myself?!

Well, no.  All my fellow passengers were safely on the plane.  I, on the other hand, was stranded in the terminal, confusedly brandishing my now pointless boarding pass.  Remember when I said check-in was to close half an hour before the flight?   Not quite true: that curfew was for the gate closing.  Standard procedure.  Apparently...

My Saving Grace

With the hope of setting off to Hungary becoming a distant dream, I did what any self-respecting young adult would do in this situation.  Called Mummy.  Ever my saviour, she got straight on the case and found a cheap flight with a dodgy Eastern European airline travelling to Budapest that very afternoon.  I sheepishly made my way back out of Stansted Airport, waiting for my chauffeur to collect me (Mother dearest, yet again), and finally set off from Luton in a charming little plane with a pink interior and surly cabin crew.  The moral of the story: always read the small print, as well as the blindingly obvious print.  And never order food in an airport.

Day Fourteen:  Win the prize for biggest moron this side of Moldova.  TICK!

Peace & Love,

Rich xx