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Heathrow Airport
well it's actually "Hell" by Hieronymus Bosch, but I think the resemblance is striking. July 1st: Where to begin? On the first level of hell I guess...Remember that 5 hours of sleep I'd planned on getting? Well that was broken up every hour or 2 by screeching loud alarm sirens, even as I was stumbling out of bed and into my clothes the alarms would cut out.
I was out of bed by 6am to catch the airport bus, the reception guz said that the alarms were fire alarms and they didn't know what was causing them but they suspected that somebody was smoking in a non-smoking room... what fuckwit would do something like that?! and how could they be so stupid as to do it 3 or 4 times after they'd set off the alarm the first time?!!
Anyway, on to the airport. I was organised and made sure the previous night to ask the receptionist which terminal I would be flying from, he looked it up on his computer "Terminal 5 sir" excellent, sussed! Only, when I got to terminal 5 and finally got to the front of the queue the lady there said "oh no, this flight goes from terminal 3." I said that I'd asked at the hotel and she
Oki Doki
the colourful entrance to the Oki Doki hostel in Warsaw said (as if it were not only obvious, but amusing too) "oh never trust them!" Again, sick and tired, not in the mood for joviality, especially not when it has majorly ruined my day. I was told that it was too late for me to get to Terminal 3 and was sent over to the British Air ticket office where I was told I'd probably have to pay for a replacement ticket since it wasmy
my fault I'd missed the plane (I guess within the context of their fault vs my fault yeah it was, but still... wankers)! The woman at the desk was a bit of a cold faced shrew, the only times she smiled were: first, when she told me that the other flight to Warsaw that day was full and then an even bigger smile when she was able to report that first flight the following day was also full!
So, resignedly I got some pounds out on my credit card and logged onto the internet at the airport at a rate of £1 per 10 minutes! I found a flight roughly the same price as the one I'd had AND it was leaving at 11am (it was only about 7.30am by this stage) perfect! "Sorry, you can not book this flight using a foreign credit card within 3 days of the departure date, please use a UK credit card" ...oh sure... oh right wait, I DON'T HAVE ONE! I mean really why do they care if it's purchased on a foreign credit card?! Even if you don't turn up they've still been paid AND they have one less passenger to mollycoddle!
Found another flight that I WAS able to book though it was£80 more and doesn't leave till the evening.
From memory the 7th level of hell is being froyen in ice with your head poking out... seems apt; instead of spending a lovely day exploring Warsaw I'm trapped in Heathrow.
...I have the nasty feeling that this is some sort of karma for laughing to myself at that giant fat woman at Glasgow airport who was sitting eating a small tub of icecream with a tiny little plastic spoon.
-later-
I am in love with the woman from Polish Air, she takes care of me and doesn't take pleasure in my misfortune (must just be a BA thing), she got on the phone and fully cussed someone out in Polish when there seemed to be a problem with getting my tickets printed, she was so helpful. I have to admit that with feeling so sick and then with all this crap going wrong I had a moment of thinking that I should just catch the train into London, get to the local Flight Centre and get them to reschedule my flight to NZ for this week so I could just spend the last 3-4 weeks of my holiday having a boring uncomplicated time back home!
I've now been told that my current Warsaw flight has been postponed... possibly cancelled, good grief, one maladie after another! If I finally get to Warsaw I hope everything runs smoothly from then on.
A thought on spending the whole day at Heathrow airport: well let's just say that if you were contemplating suicide but you weren't quite there, it would push you over the edge. The uncomfortable seats or (as I've done) buying constant cups of coffee so you can sit on the slightly better seats in the cafe/restaurant area, there's the constant press of people... more so with the relentless approach of the olympics and all that jazzmatazz and the announcements, very LOUD announcements over the PA, at least one every minute, drilling into your head! It's like being stuck on hold with a customer services phoneline (please hold the line, your call is important to us)... no wonder so many of the employees here take pleasure in the pain of those who get to leave.
-even later-
Well apparently the problem is that Warsaw airport's entire computer system crashed... that's reassuring, and not the best choice of words for an airline to use. Check in has now happened (2 hours late) so I'll be arriving near midnight... wonder if it's worth just sleeping at the airport because otherwise I'll probably have to get a taxi and I've already spent enough money today.
One last (I hope) bit of fun at the check-in, the guy took my booking and passport and gave that 'second look' and 'frown' combo that always triggers the phrase "oh shit, what now" at the back of my mind. He took the info along to the love of my life at their booking office, she cussed him out in Polish and then he came back and let me through.
- even more laterer-
Well the flight itself was okay. I was sat next to one of the emergency doors which spent have the trip leaking water and rattling (or maybe that was me?), and towards the end of the trip we hit some crazy turbulence that kept feeling like we'd hit the runway.
Arriving over Warsaw... I didn't know how huge it is! The passport cotnrol was one of the more worrying experiences of my life; a stern looking woman in a very military uniform holding my passport, flicking through it, rubbing each page, asking me questions, lapsing into long conversations in Polish with her slightly more cheerful but still very militarily uniformed colleague... I felt sure that this was about to be another bad thing in my day "no you can't come to Poland, bog off you stinky NZer." Then after an eternity she stamped my passport, handed it back and looked bored.
Caught a taxi into the city (taxi was actually comparatively cheap) and damn it is beautiful! It's a pity I'll only have one day here, but it's definitely a shot in the arm after a day in Heathrow (and 2 weeks of the UK... I mean I love it but some of the towns start to get a bit samey).
It's very wwarm, pouring with rain too, though I imagine it's that "it is so hot that it MUST rain" kind of rain.
The Oki Doki Hostel is wild, as are the 3 who checked me in; the balding long haired guy asking me if I do drugs or if I'm a cop, the 2 gorgeous Polish girls (one of whom keeps insisting that she looks terrible naked) talking about flight of the conchords. The girl checking me in (joke about checking me out? meh) keeps getting distracted by the hilarity and apologises. Baldy tells me (straight faced) that she is distracted because she has taken too much heroin, her chating boyfriend has got her pregnant and her mother is an alcoholic! I solemnlz tell him that my mother too is an alcoholic (sorry mum) which seems to amuse him greatly.
This positive craziness was just what I needed after the negative craziness of the day in hell/heathrow. Apparently it was the Eurocup final in Warsaw tonight which is probably why the straights are so pumping on a Sunday night.
Oh well, celebrations all round, Goodnight!
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