There was once a girl, lets call her Lorraine. Lorraine, was setting off on a voyage to the south of Ireland, to see her then boyfriends sister graduate from college. The graduation was on a Friday afternoon, and Lorraine was all set to head off on the Thursday beforehand, giving her time to land there, hang out with her boyo and his family, get a good nights sleep and then perhaps try to look amazing for the next day. But things never seem to go to plan, and what began as a fairly bog standard trip from Stansted airport to Ireland, went horribly wrong..Let's talk to Lorraine to see how the trip went:
Calamity Jane: Lorraine, describe the events leading up to the flight?
Lorraine: Well, which flight are you on about, there were many over the course of this epic adventure.
CJ: The, initial flight, lets say.
L: In the weeks leading up to the trip, I was very excited. And in fact, was jittery when I booked the flights, as I was eager to get home and see my then boyfriend. I remember booking my flights to come home for it, nervously checking that everything was in properly.
CJ: You say you left early that day to get to the airport on time, can you tell me more about that?
L: You're right, I left my office in Wimbledon at about 4pm that day, heading off to Liverpool street to get my Stansted Express train to the airport, and I left early so I could get there in good time.
CJ: Did you notice anything unusual that day, any air of what was to come...
L: To be honest, nothing really stands out, but I guess I should have figured all was not as it seemed when I boarded the wrong train, even though it said Platform Five for the Stansted Express, and it said Stansted Express in big writing across the carriage.
CJ: Go on...
L: When I looked around, I could see that everyone seemed to be in their work clothes. And when the train pulled into it's first stop, I realised that this wasn't the normal journey. On closer inspection, I saw that no one bar me had a suitcase, strange for a train designed specifically to bring people to the airport.
CJ: A sign of things to come perhaps?
L: Not really, at Tottenham Hale I jumped off, and lucky the next train to come in was the Express, and I snuck into the first class carriage and remained there inhaling silence and Brut aftershave from the stressed businessmen around me. What happens later, was maybe my Karma for sneaking on, who knows.
CJ: In your own time Lorraine, can you tell me what happened next?
L: The train journey was fine, my flight wasn't leaving Stansted until 19.30 that evening, and I made it to the terminal at 18.30, having had checked myself in earlier on in the day. I was giddy, and excited, and also nervous as I'm not an easy flyer. But I had a smile plastered on my face, and music blaring in my earphones, and had a lovely little chat about MeatLoaf to the boarding card inspector when I was queuing up.
*It is as this time I must tell you, that Lorraine goes silent, and looks down at the floor. A single tear rolls down her face as she remembers something obviously traumatic and stressful.
L: Sorry, it's just every so often it hits me. The man scanned my boarding card, but then his face looked puzzled, almost pained. He...he looked at me and said, god I still remember those words, he said "Sorry Lorraine, but this ticket is booked for next Thursday. There's nothing more I can do" I'm ashamed to say I cried, the tears just sprang up out of nowhere. He told me to go to the Ryanair desk and see if there was anything they could do. But you know how it is, there's nothing that anyone can do in these situations, it's just life, you know? No more flights into Ireland that night, to any destination.
CJ: So what happened next, what did you do?
L: I despaired, I'm human what do you expect? But I phoned my boyfriend, and explained the situation to him. He was angry to say the least, but not with me, just at the situation. Wouldn't you be? I wasn't thinking straight, apparently mumbling about booking another flight and sleeping in the airport. But even though he was hundreds of miles away, he wasn't going to let me sleep on the floor of an airport, so he calmed me down and made me see sense. I booked another flight, this time early in the morning into Kerry airport, and booked myself a hotel room in a travel lodge down the road, on the proviso that there was a shuttle service to and from the hotel to the terminal. Happy days eh?
CJ: Ah yes, good old travel lodge's, they do come in handy don't they. Would you care to talk about your experience there on that night?
L: Yeah of course, it was fine you know? The receptionist was lovely, very welcoming which was nice, and very sympathetic after I had told her what happened. She booked me in for a wake up call and a space on the shuttle bus the following morning, so I went to my room happy. The original flight had cost me about £70. The next flight cost me about £180 and the room at the inn, ha ha, cost me another £100, so it was working out quite expensive. God, I remember I had a savings account before all this started! The room was fine, basic, small, smelt a bit like mildew, but it could have been worse, I was glad of a bed. And as a treat, I went out and foraged for some KFC so happily munched away and went to bed at the criminally early time of 9.30pm to prepare for the following day.
CJ: Mmmm, KFC. Sorry, so early start the next day?
L: Yeah, really early, about 5am start the next day, my flight was due to leave at 6.20am, so I was booked into the shuttle bus for 5.15am, so was happy to have bee woken up by the receptionist, and was following her instructions to find the shuttle bus to a t. Except I couldn't find it.
CJ: How do you mean...
L: I mean, I couldn't find it. It was dark outside, as it was October time, and the car park was full of cars and vans and trucks, it was a truckers paradise there. But I couldn't see the shuttle bus anywhere, and it was only 5.10am, so it couldn't have departed already.
CJ: So there you were, alone and vulnerable with a big bag on your back wandering around a car park on your own at 5am of a cold October morning.
L: In a word, yes. I phoned the hotel to see where the bus was, and she said it had left, how had I missed it? The next one wasn't coming until 5.30am and I feared that would be too late. But the receptionist told me to hang fire, that they would get me there. The minutes ticked past, but it wasn't getting any lighter or brighter outside. I thought to myself, that I couldn't, I wouldn't miss this flight. That I would make it on time. But when 5.30am came and went with no sign of the shuttle bus and me wandering around a car park on my own, I began to feel less hopeful, and most despairing. I called reception again, to see what exactly was happening, only to be told the bus had gone, and that I was to go to another part of the hotel to get the next one. But trying to find that part was like trying to find Bin Laden, I hadn't a clue!
CJ: How do you get out of a situation like this, what did you do?
L: I calmed down, remembering a Bear Grylls episode where he told people to not panic when faced with danger as that cloud's your judgement. So I took a deep breath, and looked around for any indication as to what I could do or where I could go.
CJ: Go on
L: Well, once I relaxed, I could see a sign pointing to the other reception area, at the other side of the hotel, so I went, and miraculously enough, I managed to make it, lumbering bag and all, for the 5.45am shuttle bus.
CJ: But that's not where it ends Lorraine is it?
L: No, no there is another part to this tale, one which I don't like talking about too much. Would you just excuse me for a moment so I can, you know do some deep breathing or whatever? Thanks.
*With that, Lorraine leaves the lounge and goes to the downstairs en-suite. Muffled sighs and cries and slaps to the face can be heard. I cut the tape recorder, and give her time.
L: Finally getting to the airport, £2 lighter as well, I ran through security, only to be told by one of the men at the scanners that this flight had left. But I refused to believe, I had memorised the flight number, gate, and also the time of departure, so I knew he was wrong. I hadn't ran in a long time, so running to the furthest gate to catch my flight was a shock to the system to say the least, but I knew it would be worth it.
CJ: So you made it then...
L: Oh yes, I made it to the gate. Five minutes after it had closed. I could see the plane, reversing to begin it's taxi down the runway. I had missed the flight. And I had no choice but to do the ultimate walk of shame back through the throngs, tears streaming down my face. All I could do was cry and feel sorry for myself, but I had to hold it together and make the call, the call I really did not want to have to make. But I did it, attempting to make this OK, and to get to Kerry. He told me I was daft to even attempt another journey, but I was determined. I'm stubborn if nothing else, and once I get something into my head, there's not much that can get rid of it. So I sat myself down, tears still coming, at one of the internet desks in the departures hall, and booked myself on yet another flight. This time though, I couldn't process payment, it just wouldn't go through, and I had to phone my bank.
CJ: Was there a reason?
L: Yes, good security measures were in place, whereby my bank thought someone had stolen my card, what with all this hotel booking and flight booking happening. So I had to wait patiently while they unlocked my card and sympathised with me for what had happened. But there is a twist to this flight booking. There were no more flights into Cork, or Kerry from Stansted. So I had to do something I never thought possible...I had to book a flight from Heathrow to Cork at the cost of about £210, and somehow traverse across the city to the other side to get back to Ireland.
CJ: In morning traffic, across London...does this tale end well for our heroine?
L: Oddly yes, the gods of travel were smiling on me that morning, some repairs being carried out on the M25 meant the traffic flow was at an all time low, and that driving through would be a doddle. And it was! We got there for 8am, and my flight wasn't leaving until noon, so I really did have time to regroup and relax. But there's more. Of course there's more.
CJ: Do tell...
L: Well, queuing for security before I could get to the gate for my Aer Lingus flight, I got chatting to the security man. He was an affable chap, he seemed a bit down and out, so we swapped horror stories of why our days were going so terribly wrong! He was being laid off, so my sympathies laid with him. However, seeing my plight, he took pity on me and fast tracked me, carrying my bag himself across to the fast track lane, and beckoning me over. I thought, maybe this is the start of the good things today? Maybe this is where it all goes right!
CJ: I have a feeling it doesn't.
L: Oh how you know me CJ! I've never had the x-ray machines in any airport go off for something in my carry on luggage before, so you imagine my surprise when it started to beep. Nothing to worry about I thought, or else something very wrong to worry about! Still, kindly security guard motioned for me to relax, we'll sort it all out, got one of his fellow officers to come help him find what was making the thing beep. I had to empty out my entire bag, showing my clear plastic bag of 100ml or less items to make sure that wasn't what was setting the machines off. But there was nothing, honestly nothing they could find, and I could see it in Kindly Security Guards eyes that he wasn't sure about me now, or my sob story. But the queue was being backed up, and there was nothing there, so what could he do. Repacking my belongings, I said my goodbyes and was met with stony silence. Grabbing the handle of my bag, I swung it down from the table top, only for it to spew forth the contents of my bag all over the floor as I hadn't zipped it up properly.
CJ: Oh my word, the horror!
L: Tell me about it! Knickers, bras, tampons, toothbrush, whatever you can think of spilled everywhere, as I frantically waded about on the floor of Heathrow Airport furiously repacking my bag. Hoisting it up on the table, I zipped it all up, only to find a bottle of water lodged in a pocket it shouldn't have been. Turning to face the security guards, I beamed at them, and produced the water. They were quite relieved to say the least, as Kindly Security Guard told me that even though they had found nothing, they would have had to watch me all through the airport and until I boarded my flight in case I did something. The flight went off without a hitch, was happy to be on Aer Lingus, and arrived to Cork airport a while later, to be greeted by a jazz band as it was the start of the Cork Jazz Festival. Had to travel another two hours in the car (I was met at the airport by a not so happy chappy boyfriend as you can imagine!) but I got there. I got there. And that, CJ, is the tale of how a girl called ahem, Lorraine left Wimbledon at 4.30pm on a Thursday afternoon, and landed to Tralee Co Kerry, at 5pm the following day.
The names have been changed to protect Lorraine's true identity. She works as a PA, and is in charge of booking people's flights.
If you have been affected by this story, please seek help, as that's a bit strange. Lorraine received no payment for this story.
Calamity Jane: Lorraine, describe the events leading up to the flight?
Lorraine: Well, which flight are you on about, there were many over the course of this epic adventure.
CJ: The, initial flight, lets say.
L: In the weeks leading up to the trip, I was very excited. And in fact, was jittery when I booked the flights, as I was eager to get home and see my then boyfriend. I remember booking my flights to come home for it, nervously checking that everything was in properly.
CJ: You say you left early that day to get to the airport on time, can you tell me more about that?
L: You're right, I left my office in Wimbledon at about 4pm that day, heading off to Liverpool street to get my Stansted Express train to the airport, and I left early so I could get there in good time.
CJ: Did you notice anything unusual that day, any air of what was to come...
L: To be honest, nothing really stands out, but I guess I should have figured all was not as it seemed when I boarded the wrong train, even though it said Platform Five for the Stansted Express, and it said Stansted Express in big writing across the carriage.
CJ: Go on...
L: When I looked around, I could see that everyone seemed to be in their work clothes. And when the train pulled into it's first stop, I realised that this wasn't the normal journey. On closer inspection, I saw that no one bar me had a suitcase, strange for a train designed specifically to bring people to the airport.
CJ: A sign of things to come perhaps?
L: Not really, at Tottenham Hale I jumped off, and lucky the next train to come in was the Express, and I snuck into the first class carriage and remained there inhaling silence and Brut aftershave from the stressed businessmen around me. What happens later, was maybe my Karma for sneaking on, who knows.
CJ: In your own time Lorraine, can you tell me what happened next?
L: The train journey was fine, my flight wasn't leaving Stansted until 19.30 that evening, and I made it to the terminal at 18.30, having had checked myself in earlier on in the day. I was giddy, and excited, and also nervous as I'm not an easy flyer. But I had a smile plastered on my face, and music blaring in my earphones, and had a lovely little chat about MeatLoaf to the boarding card inspector when I was queuing up.
*It is as this time I must tell you, that Lorraine goes silent, and looks down at the floor. A single tear rolls down her face as she remembers something obviously traumatic and stressful.
L: Sorry, it's just every so often it hits me. The man scanned my boarding card, but then his face looked puzzled, almost pained. He...he looked at me and said, god I still remember those words, he said "Sorry Lorraine, but this ticket is booked for next Thursday. There's nothing more I can do" I'm ashamed to say I cried, the tears just sprang up out of nowhere. He told me to go to the Ryanair desk and see if there was anything they could do. But you know how it is, there's nothing that anyone can do in these situations, it's just life, you know? No more flights into Ireland that night, to any destination.
CJ: So what happened next, what did you do?
L: I despaired, I'm human what do you expect? But I phoned my boyfriend, and explained the situation to him. He was angry to say the least, but not with me, just at the situation. Wouldn't you be? I wasn't thinking straight, apparently mumbling about booking another flight and sleeping in the airport. But even though he was hundreds of miles away, he wasn't going to let me sleep on the floor of an airport, so he calmed me down and made me see sense. I booked another flight, this time early in the morning into Kerry airport, and booked myself a hotel room in a travel lodge down the road, on the proviso that there was a shuttle service to and from the hotel to the terminal. Happy days eh?
CJ: Ah yes, good old travel lodge's, they do come in handy don't they. Would you care to talk about your experience there on that night?
L: Yeah of course, it was fine you know? The receptionist was lovely, very welcoming which was nice, and very sympathetic after I had told her what happened. She booked me in for a wake up call and a space on the shuttle bus the following morning, so I went to my room happy. The original flight had cost me about £70. The next flight cost me about £180 and the room at the inn, ha ha, cost me another £100, so it was working out quite expensive. God, I remember I had a savings account before all this started! The room was fine, basic, small, smelt a bit like mildew, but it could have been worse, I was glad of a bed. And as a treat, I went out and foraged for some KFC so happily munched away and went to bed at the criminally early time of 9.30pm to prepare for the following day.
CJ: Mmmm, KFC. Sorry, so early start the next day?
L: Yeah, really early, about 5am start the next day, my flight was due to leave at 6.20am, so I was booked into the shuttle bus for 5.15am, so was happy to have bee woken up by the receptionist, and was following her instructions to find the shuttle bus to a t. Except I couldn't find it.
CJ: How do you mean...
L: I mean, I couldn't find it. It was dark outside, as it was October time, and the car park was full of cars and vans and trucks, it was a truckers paradise there. But I couldn't see the shuttle bus anywhere, and it was only 5.10am, so it couldn't have departed already.
CJ: So there you were, alone and vulnerable with a big bag on your back wandering around a car park on your own at 5am of a cold October morning.
L: In a word, yes. I phoned the hotel to see where the bus was, and she said it had left, how had I missed it? The next one wasn't coming until 5.30am and I feared that would be too late. But the receptionist told me to hang fire, that they would get me there. The minutes ticked past, but it wasn't getting any lighter or brighter outside. I thought to myself, that I couldn't, I wouldn't miss this flight. That I would make it on time. But when 5.30am came and went with no sign of the shuttle bus and me wandering around a car park on my own, I began to feel less hopeful, and most despairing. I called reception again, to see what exactly was happening, only to be told the bus had gone, and that I was to go to another part of the hotel to get the next one. But trying to find that part was like trying to find Bin Laden, I hadn't a clue!
CJ: How do you get out of a situation like this, what did you do?
L: I calmed down, remembering a Bear Grylls episode where he told people to not panic when faced with danger as that cloud's your judgement. So I took a deep breath, and looked around for any indication as to what I could do or where I could go.
CJ: Go on
L: Well, once I relaxed, I could see a sign pointing to the other reception area, at the other side of the hotel, so I went, and miraculously enough, I managed to make it, lumbering bag and all, for the 5.45am shuttle bus.
CJ: But that's not where it ends Lorraine is it?
L: No, no there is another part to this tale, one which I don't like talking about too much. Would you just excuse me for a moment so I can, you know do some deep breathing or whatever? Thanks.
*With that, Lorraine leaves the lounge and goes to the downstairs en-suite. Muffled sighs and cries and slaps to the face can be heard. I cut the tape recorder, and give her time.
L: Finally getting to the airport, £2 lighter as well, I ran through security, only to be told by one of the men at the scanners that this flight had left. But I refused to believe, I had memorised the flight number, gate, and also the time of departure, so I knew he was wrong. I hadn't ran in a long time, so running to the furthest gate to catch my flight was a shock to the system to say the least, but I knew it would be worth it.
CJ: So you made it then...
L: Oh yes, I made it to the gate. Five minutes after it had closed. I could see the plane, reversing to begin it's taxi down the runway. I had missed the flight. And I had no choice but to do the ultimate walk of shame back through the throngs, tears streaming down my face. All I could do was cry and feel sorry for myself, but I had to hold it together and make the call, the call I really did not want to have to make. But I did it, attempting to make this OK, and to get to Kerry. He told me I was daft to even attempt another journey, but I was determined. I'm stubborn if nothing else, and once I get something into my head, there's not much that can get rid of it. So I sat myself down, tears still coming, at one of the internet desks in the departures hall, and booked myself on yet another flight. This time though, I couldn't process payment, it just wouldn't go through, and I had to phone my bank.
CJ: Was there a reason?
L: Yes, good security measures were in place, whereby my bank thought someone had stolen my card, what with all this hotel booking and flight booking happening. So I had to wait patiently while they unlocked my card and sympathised with me for what had happened. But there is a twist to this flight booking. There were no more flights into Cork, or Kerry from Stansted. So I had to do something I never thought possible...I had to book a flight from Heathrow to Cork at the cost of about £210, and somehow traverse across the city to the other side to get back to Ireland.
CJ: In morning traffic, across London...does this tale end well for our heroine?
L: Oddly yes, the gods of travel were smiling on me that morning, some repairs being carried out on the M25 meant the traffic flow was at an all time low, and that driving through would be a doddle. And it was! We got there for 8am, and my flight wasn't leaving until noon, so I really did have time to regroup and relax. But there's more. Of course there's more.
CJ: Do tell...
L: Well, queuing for security before I could get to the gate for my Aer Lingus flight, I got chatting to the security man. He was an affable chap, he seemed a bit down and out, so we swapped horror stories of why our days were going so terribly wrong! He was being laid off, so my sympathies laid with him. However, seeing my plight, he took pity on me and fast tracked me, carrying my bag himself across to the fast track lane, and beckoning me over. I thought, maybe this is the start of the good things today? Maybe this is where it all goes right!
CJ: I have a feeling it doesn't.
L: Oh how you know me CJ! I've never had the x-ray machines in any airport go off for something in my carry on luggage before, so you imagine my surprise when it started to beep. Nothing to worry about I thought, or else something very wrong to worry about! Still, kindly security guard motioned for me to relax, we'll sort it all out, got one of his fellow officers to come help him find what was making the thing beep. I had to empty out my entire bag, showing my clear plastic bag of 100ml or less items to make sure that wasn't what was setting the machines off. But there was nothing, honestly nothing they could find, and I could see it in Kindly Security Guards eyes that he wasn't sure about me now, or my sob story. But the queue was being backed up, and there was nothing there, so what could he do. Repacking my belongings, I said my goodbyes and was met with stony silence. Grabbing the handle of my bag, I swung it down from the table top, only for it to spew forth the contents of my bag all over the floor as I hadn't zipped it up properly.
CJ: Oh my word, the horror!
L: Tell me about it! Knickers, bras, tampons, toothbrush, whatever you can think of spilled everywhere, as I frantically waded about on the floor of Heathrow Airport furiously repacking my bag. Hoisting it up on the table, I zipped it all up, only to find a bottle of water lodged in a pocket it shouldn't have been. Turning to face the security guards, I beamed at them, and produced the water. They were quite relieved to say the least, as Kindly Security Guard told me that even though they had found nothing, they would have had to watch me all through the airport and until I boarded my flight in case I did something. The flight went off without a hitch, was happy to be on Aer Lingus, and arrived to Cork airport a while later, to be greeted by a jazz band as it was the start of the Cork Jazz Festival. Had to travel another two hours in the car (I was met at the airport by a not so happy chappy boyfriend as you can imagine!) but I got there. I got there. And that, CJ, is the tale of how a girl called ahem, Lorraine left Wimbledon at 4.30pm on a Thursday afternoon, and landed to Tralee Co Kerry, at 5pm the following day.
The names have been changed to protect Lorraine's true identity. She works as a PA, and is in charge of booking people's flights.
If you have been affected by this story, please seek help, as that's a bit strange. Lorraine received no payment for this story.
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