‘Could you describe your bag and its contents?’
‘Yeah, it’s pink. Northface.’ Contains my will to live.
This was me yesterday at the Edinburgh Airport after my baggage had been left planeside in Chicago. 2017 has a little over 24 hours left to live and, I swear, it has tried it’s hardest to take me down with it.
And because this is my blog, I’m going to whine.
My flights back were an absolute nightmare. It all started in Kansas City when all the of the baggage had to be taken off the plane and reloaded… twice. Arriving in Chicago, I mad a quick dash to my gate only to find that my fight from Chicago to London had already closed. This was at 4.37 when it was not due to depart until 5.23 (as my boarding pass said) However, I was informed this was a misprint and it was actually departing at 5.05. Another passenger on this flight and myself were told this at the British Airways help desk. I have never felt true comradie until this moment when this unknown dude trying to get to Manchester and I to Edinburgh looked at at each and shouted expletives in unison at Chicago O’Hare International Airport.
Then it was back to Terminal 3 to rebook through American Airlines because BA couldn’t help. I waited in the queue, seething. But, I realised that being grumpy at a customer service employee just trying to do their job amidst the panic of New Year travel wasn’t going to get me what I needed. I’m not proud, but I thought of dead puppies and could have won an Oscar for the performance of ‘sad, lost, female traveller trying to get back to her friends and family.’
Khloe (god bless her and I hope she has a wonderful New Years), the American Airlines employee, rebooked me onto a later flight. Regardless, I had a seat. I wasn’t getting stuck in Chicago.
To be fair, the seats were decently comfortable. AA had an absolute shit ton of movies which included a channel entirely dedicated to Star Wars. Inspirational. Unfortunately, I watched nearly the entirety of Empire Strikes Back before we took off.
And when we did take off, the small infant in front of me decided it was time to scream. In a cruel twist of fate, the dude in front of the infant was offered a free upgrade to business class… with full recliners etc. Offered is the key word here. My dudes, I have seen some shit on airplanes, (figurative and literal) but I have never once seen a person decline to be upgraded for free. My only conclusion is that the American male has a desire to suffer.
Finally after 7.5 hours of screaming and the wine cart passing me eight times (However, because this was an American operated flight, and me being not yet 21 I couldn’t have a glass to numb my pain), we arrived in the London airspace. We attempted to land… three times. Finally after nine hours, I was free with less than an hour to catch my connecting flight to Edinburgh.
Heathrow actually moved much quicker than the past few times I have flown through, which was a blessing. I filed through security while my flight was boarding so had to race through the terminal with one shoe and my belt in my hand. I was sweating on the plane and it was really gross and I’m really sorry.
I arrived in Edinburgh just a little before 1 pm. I was supposed to have arrived at 9.20 am. I waited for my baggage to arrive when it didn’t I moved to the baggage claim desk only to discover my baggage had been pulled and left in Chicago when I had failed to make my first flight to London. Why tho cruel world?
I returned to my flat around 2 pm. I made the rookie mistake of sleeping all afternoon and woke up at 10 pm. Ellie came over and we ordered pizza and watched the Victoria Christmas Special. We had plans to leave for the Bothy today, but as you can infer from reading this now… that has been postponed until tomorrow.
This morning, my baggage was still reporting as missing and I was getting really worried because I needed the bag to pack for the Bothy… that and my aunt had made me popcorn balls and I feared they had been squashed.
Ellie and I went to brunch and I became increasingly aware I had picked up a stomach bug from the airplane. (@god y tho). It was my fault. I knew not to eat the chicken on the plane but I did it anyway and @my poor body I am so sorry.
A final stroke of luck, my baggage was found and I called to check delivery times. Not very helpful, the soonest they could deliver my bag would be tomorrow when I would have already left. Instead I said fuck it and went to the airport of collect my baggage. Now reunited with my jumpers and popcorn balls I can cry into my peppermint tea.
Beside all the dramatics, I can say that I am back in Scotland. I’m happy to be here and thankful that I will not be boarding another transatlantic flight until August.
pls console me – i have suffered.
One thought on “i. am. traumatised.”
Hang in there wonderful daughter, it is a small price to live in Trump-free Scotland. Love, Padre