Airport Misadventures

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So here we are, off to the airport again. To be honest it doesn’t feel long since our last trip and I’m almost wishing I hadn’t booked this trip. But book it I did and everything has been paid for so here we are.

I suppose we were lucky that the trains were running as there was due to be a strike today. Our train is on time and it chugs us in to Redhill, one change and we are at Gatwick. It’s all pretty smooth.

We are early but check in is open. For once we don’t break the machines doing the self check in of our suitcase…yes just the one, we’re travelling light.

Security is the usual nightmare. The lady in charge of the queue is funny…she’s calling out all the things we have to put in a plastic bag, it’s a great long list and she sounds like a market stall holder barking the items out…and only one bag per person mind…liquids include, lipsticks, creams, makeup, contact lenses, lip balm, shaving cream…cuddly toy? Thank goodness we don’t have any, the list seems endless and she tells us all to get it all sorted before we reach security. And shuffle along folks please, shuffle along.

We get to security and we are directed to queue behind our allocated numbers…8 for Ian and 9 for me. Good, that means my stuff will go through after Ian’s so he can look after it - I will be detained for double checking for certain as my metal hip always sets the alarms off. Well that is the theory. The idiot man next to me in bay 8 is now sorting through the whole of his hand luggage to extract offending items. Didn’t hear that woman telling you what to do then mate? Idiot!

So now I’m at the walk through arch. Ping! And I’m in the queue for further scanning and pat downs while all my valuables are sitting unattended as usual. Today it’s just another scan and I’m allowed to keep my shoes on.

Ian is through by the time I’m done and reports that my carry on bag has disappeared. It’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the extra checking area. I don’t start to panic till I see the idiot is having his stuff double checked and his went on the belt ages long after mine.

Eventually my bag turns up and is opened for manual checking. Have we packed any sharp objects? Well not to our knowledge. The guy goes straight to our card games bag. Oh, exclaims Ian…it’s our penknife…it’s in the pocket at the front of the bag! He then turns to me and says, you have a habit of putting that in there! What? I haven’t seen that penknife for years, though it is mine - a little Swiss Army affair that I bought for my epic overland trip in 1994. What I fail to understand is that if ‘I’ put it there, how come Ian knew exactly what and where the offending item was!

Meanwhile, I get a look of disgust and a patronising lecture off the airport official about not being allowed to take knives on planes. He’s going to take it off me but oh well, it’s only a penknife exclaims the official. Huh well it might only be a penknife to him but that’s a little piece of history I am losing! Ugh, yes it’s only a penknife.

I’m looking at the boards. At least our plane is on time. I pick up a couple of meal deals for the plane. A very nice young man assists me with the self check outs that I always mess up.

We make our way to the other end of the airport (why is our gate always the furthest away possible?) and in no time at all our tickets are checked and we’re queued up at the doors waiting to board the plane.

We are now in the inner waiting area with all the other ‘speedy boarders’. Ten minutes have passed and we’re still waiting…apparently the air con has gone futt. Might as well get out of the queue and take a seat…I have a horrible feeling the flight might be cancelled and this is the last one of the day. I don’t think we are going anywhere soon.

Two guys in yellow hi viz jackets emerge from the doors to the plane and hurry off through the airport… And now they are coming back. Good news? Maybe not, they are carrying take aways - I guess it was time for their meal break.

One hour has passed and now we are finally boarding. Oh well, at least the flight wasn’t cancelled. If I had gone home I’d not have been returning tomorrow!

I’m feeling quite weary and I have headache. So all I need now is having to listen to the woman on the opposite side of the plane. God she is loud! I think the whole plane must know about her son in America and the other one that’s doing his DofE award and pretty much the rest of her life history!

We’ve arrived at Malaga and disembarking is swift. We’re right at the front and straight through security. It would appear that there was another flight scheduled an hour after ours and we’ve arrived just after the later flight. Even so, luggage collection is efficient and for once our case is one of the first to arrive. Hoorah. It’s just done midnight and there’s still time to catch the last train to Malaga Central. Our hotel is literally a three minute walk from the station.

Ian leads us through the concourse to the station fathoming out how to use the self serve ticket machine. There’s no one here to ask, the staff are long gone! We make our way to platform 2, hoping that’s the right one as that’s where others have gone. Disculpe señor, malaga centro, I ask pointing at the ground below me. He gets the gist and smiles. It would appear that’s right. Thank heavens for Duolingo…I’m still only in block two of ten in the beginners course but it looks like I’ve learned something!

We’re on the train. I’ve just realised everyone has suddenly masked up…it’s still compulsory here though no one bothered in the airport. I grab the two I prepared earlier and now we are complying with everyone else. Though the two young girls on the bench seat next to me have theirs under their chins…you can’t have a proper chat with these things on!

Three stops only and we are off and up the escalators. As promised, our hotel is relatively easily located a short walk away. One day we’ll take tge easy option and use a taxi…but tonight the train was just as quick and easy.

There is a very pleasant gentleman on reception. He speaks very good English but is very happy to exchange a few stilted phrases in Spanish with me. We check in and locate our room. All very nice. The phone rings. It’s the guy from reception to tell us he has looked up the BBC news channel number for me (there are scores of different channel numbers). I want to watch the Queens funeral service on Monday and wasn’t sure if I’d be able to!

I want my bed, but not before a shower…it’s been a long day!

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