Joyously, the reason for my space-time journey (leave at 7:15pm, arrive at 9:30pm despite spending 7 hours on a plane? Go figure, guys!) is the happy union of hearts and minds between one of my most loyal blog-reading fans and her bow-tie toting beau which has been a long time coming and a much anticipated event.
I'll tell you what, though, blog readers: leaving school on a Friday, travelling to the airport and taking a flight in the UK is a hundred billion times more stressful than leaving school, donning a trusty rucksack, zipping along on Little Moto and waiting for your name to be called out whilst you sup wine casually at the FinBar at Tan Son Nhat! Indulge me whilst I list all the stressful comparisons:
1. In Vietnam it costs me no pence to get to the airport on Little Moto other than 50p for three days parking. In the UK, it costs £42.20 in a taxi because there is NO TIME for public transport. WOW. There's cost of living for you
2. In Vietnam, I basically carried my passport around with me like a set of keys. In the UK, I wake up at 6:30am on the morning of my flight and it is only at this point that I reflect upon the fact that a passport might be helpful and begin to wonder where it is.
3. In the UK, i am preoccupied by a million things and so walk out of the house and get half way down the street before realising that I have left my suitcase in my bedroom and it is not until I am being charged a penalty fare on the tram that I realise my tea is still brewing in my thermos flask in the kitchen. Boo.
4. At Heathrow, as at Changi, they play that game of putting you in a lottery named 'Flight Overbooked' to see if you will win a seat on the flight you have already paid to be on. Stony face. Why do they do this? It is in no way amusing or fun.
On the plus side, my anxiety surrounding missing this very important flight was calmed by a 75 minute key note speech by David Crystal at today's fun school INSET. COOOOOOL. Grammar nerds, don't pretend you ain't jealous. This is grammar celebrity GOLD.
I did not get a selfie. Lame. This is because I had not managed to get coffee beforehand (remember the abandoned flask of earl grey) and so raced to be at the front of the queue at break time. Crystal schmystal. I needed caffeine!
Now, after all this, you may be thinking, 'Did she make it to the airport in time? Or was she too busy drinking coffee with David Crystal and chatting breeze about semantics and pragmatics?' Of course I made the flight, sillies, and I even poo-pooed the lovely Heather's suggestion at 6:15pm that we make our way to the gate. "Have they called our names on the tannoy, Heather?" I asked, seasoned traveller that I am. "They are not really taking off until they call our name on the tannoy and a man runs up to us with a sign. This is how airports work. We only pay our red wine bill when our escort appears!"
Alas, Heather is not a veteran like me and insisted we make our way to our departure gate where we ended up queuing - yes, queueing! - for at least three minutes and we had to find said gate all by ourselves with no-one hurrying us along in politely irate tones. Kuh! This is not how I roll.
Once on the flight, I discovered this:
WOW. A thing of beauty is indeed a joy forever and has allowed me to update you with all my goings on because hey, guys, an iPhone is not like a writing pad: it has a battery that runs out which is uber rubbish and the magic of 4G only just makes up for it.
Now. We are about to land in a frozen world of snow so I will post pics of igloos and me dying of pneumonia in a wedding outfit and inappropriate coat very soon. The pilot has just announced that it is -11 degrees centigrade. I didn't even know that this temperature existed in a place that human beings lived. In the words of Lawrence Oates: 'I'm just going out. I may be some time.'
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