Fly Maybe

I took the Docklands Light Rail early Saturday to London City Airport to catch my FlyBe flight, also known by the title above for reasons that will become obvious. On the way to the airport, I was admiring how, when fog shrouds a city, it conceals the rough edges and makes it seem a bit more romantic, just like snow. As I passed Canary Wharf, I looked at all the tall bank buildings and wondered if their executives will feel good about their sustainability policies and recycling efforts when the Tide Comes In.

So at the airport, by 9:30, I see that at least half the flights are canceled. My flight, at 12:20, is still listed. In the next 2 hours, flights get off to Edinburgh, Amsterdam, and Dublin; most of the European flights don't leave. Around 12:10, my flight, due to leave in 10 minutes, was canceled. Passengers instructed to go to Gate 2A. Which we do, and stand around and look at each other for a while--no FlyBe personnel in sight. Then a security guy comes to escort us out of the airport, as it closes at 12:30. !! We go downstairs to the baggage area and then get in a long queue. First we're told a bus will take us to Birmingham airport, where we're to get a 3:30 flight to Belfast. A few people make alternative arrangements through Heathrow and Stansted, as they don't think we'll make the 3:30 pm flight. I stay put as I don't fancy lining up the three train journeys I need to Stansted. We are soon told we are all going in taxis to Birmingham (2.5 hours away), where FlyBe is chartering a flight for us.

After an hour in the queue, I squeeze in to a taxi with four other passengers and off we go.  The driver doesn't know where to leave us, so he drops us at a hotel. We walk maybe 5 minutes to the airport entrance and join a small queue of unhappy people at FlyBe's counter. We've all been told that they aren't boarding any more passengers onto the Belfast flight due to that old chestnut "operational reasons." We will spend the night in Birmingham and fly home Sunday morning. The lady was not for staying the night in Birmingham. We told the surly FlyBe agent that we were promised a place on that flight. He gets a phone call saying we are now allowed on. Each of us is issued a new boarding pass and we walk a long distance to a gate. I'll mention here that my left shoulder has been in pain since September due to an ill-advised morning side plank work out. Lifting my heavy laptop bag and my small suitcase over and over and over since I left Belfast has wrecked my poor shoulder.

Where was I? Ah, the gate. Just as in London City, there are no FlyBe personnel there. We are a weary bunch, sitting there looking at each other. The first half of the 10 taxis are on a plane somewhere and the rest of us are sitting at a gate awaiting instruction. I go up the hall and find a guy who is literally trying to be invisible. He's with FlyBe and I ask him when is our flight leaving. He said we are waiting for 30 more passengers, that all the taxis hadn't arrived. I reported this back to the other people at gate 11 and they confirmed my belief we were all there. That guy disappeared, so I went to two men hanging around gate 15, also FlyBe personnel keeping a low profile. I explained that we are all here and we should have boarded. He calls someone who tells him to count how many people are at the gate. Would you believe 30? He escorts us downstairs, where we are put on a cold bus to wait for maybe 10 minutes. Then we are driven to the plane and reunited with the rest of our party from London City, who had been waiting on the plane for 1.5 hours as Fly Maybe screwed around.

But it all turned out well. We each got a free hot beverage. I got home around 7pm and went to bed at the first opportunity--I didn't have the energy to enjoy Paddy's high-energy company.

11-30