Airport tales

Yesterday I woke up at 4.40am in order to fly to the UK for the day for work. I woke, I stretched, I dressed and was out the door in record time. I felt awake, bright, chirpy even for that time in the morning. It was still dark out but my taxi driver was in a good mood and so was I. I was diving back into an area of work I left behind 2 years ago.




I treated myself to a proper breakfast at the airport so that I could get through the long day ahead and then checked the departures for my gate. I started to walk. A long while later, I was still walking and thinking to myself that it seemed silly to have me check in at Terminal 2 when my plane seemed to be departing from Terminal 1. I reached the gate and realised it was the “other” 6.30am flight to my destination. Fark. I had 5 minutes to boarding and further investigations proved that my plane was in fact leaving from a gate back where I had come from, on the other side of the airport. And so I ran. In my work heels, with my laptop in my bag, at 6 in the morning. Back I ran and after a while I was joined by another running man. I don’t know what his story was but like me he skidded to halt at the correct 6.30am flight departure gate, gasping and panting.



And now I’ve learned my lesson. Always check the flight number. And be ye not so foolish as me. Wear flat shoes to travel....