I can’t believe that after the week I have had, the most dramatic part of the trip has turned out to be getting to the airport.
It started innocuously enough, up at 5:30, luggage in passageway by 6:00, breakfast at 6:15, on the bus by 6:45. Made it to the airport in good time as it was Easter Sunday morning – no traffic.
Then things started going sideways. First the bus driver announced the wrong Terminal for those of us flying BA – but we let that slide – either we misheard him, or we could walk from 2A to 2C as they’re side-by-side. But then we drove past 2A, then 2C, then all the way over to 2D. Okaaaay. Then we looped ’round once more, altho on different levels. Hunh.
Suddenly we’re heading back out of the main part of the airport toward the highway. All this was happening without explanation from the driver – from where I was sitting, it sounded like he was chatting with some of the guests at the front of the bus – I would rather he had been concentrating on getting me to my terminal. Then we looped back around again. This time, we headed down a sideroad toward Deliveries where he stopped, then started a 17-point turn. I should mention, this was a full-sized European coach tour-style bus. We made it around so we were facing the way we’d come and headed back to the main part of the airport. That’s when the police pulled us over, on one of those many one-way raised lanes that weave in and out of airports. While one officer talked sternly to our driver, three other cops with flak jackets and automatic weapons prowled around us, peering under the bus and generally checking us and the environment out. This was getting spicy! Interestingly, if they feel they are being inconvenienced, Parisian taxi drivers will honk at anyone, including fully armed, terrifying looking police officers.
We outwitted the cops and headed back along the lanes of the airport. Now he had picked up speed, and took a couple of curves at a fair clip (did I mention the size of our coach?). Suddenly, things started to come together. We were on a lower level, a Uniworld representative got on board, and we were just waiting for the bus in front of us to hand off all its luggage to its departing guests. Then the honking started again. The bus in front of us took another 5 minutes to empty, to argue with some attendant, and to make a far tighter than 90 degree turn to get out of our way.
Finally we were off the bus. Much later than hoped, but off the bus.
And yet, our problems weren’t over. We had the most vague, non-committal, Uniworld rep in the world. She drifted us toward our check in desks. She has us wait off to one side because they weren’t open (yes, they were) – as with every Uniworld airport transfer I’ve ever had, this one was less than stellar. We eventually abandoned her and just went to BA’s desk to check in. Pathetic. Although, in retrospect, a fitting close to an unusual holiday.
Ah well, I’ve got a boarding pass, I’m at our gate, and someone has just found a piano and is playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D. All in all, things could be worse.