Sunday, 4 September 2011

The fight to Nepal.

All went to the usual schedule for our departure to the airport.
In that, I was ready. My bride working on her standard theory that as she had banked time by checking in on line, she had no need to hurry at all.


Her perfect world theory that cabs will arrive at our doorstep within 5 nanoseconds of calling had also been part of her play, even though this has yet to be the case, in any of our travels.  The final piece in her optimism puzzle revolved  around information  from a well-meaning colleague who stated that even though Ms Optimist’s Visa is in transition, she would be perfectly fine at the airport.

Information that was only shared with me as she was again walking around the apartment, checking power switches and tidying up the paper pile.

“What are you doing Honey?” I said at 11.46am. The snowball was already rolling, slowly, and it was coming my way.
“Just making sure everything is off” she replied.
“You ARE all packed aren’t you” I asked.
“Almost, just have to grab a couple of things and then I’m done” she said cheerily.
“What things? Are those ‘things’ connected to the light switches you are flicking?” my jaw was tightening.
“It’ll be fine” she replied, even though we go through this every time, and EVEN THOUGH she knows that I hate being late, here we were 1 minute after check in had opened, and she was sharing with me that she was ‘almost’ packed.

Things weren’t fine.

We travel a bit, so as a result we have access to the flight lounges involved with Etihad. Unfortunately the powers that be changed the rules on us recently which meant that the lounge we were going to have access to was no longer the fabulous Business lounge in terminal 3. Instead we were going to have to use a lounge in terminal 1. A fifteen minute walk away from where most of the flights we take depart from.

MOST of the flights being the operative term.

This was the first time we had to fly out of T1 in ages.

The gate we were leaving from was a 25 second walk from the front of the lounge. My goal in minor protest to Etihad reneging on the original agreement for frequent flyers was to saunter in to the new lounge, and cost the company some money.

Not damage, or graffiti or anything that could have any criminal connotation, surely not.

No, my protest was based on repaying their lack of recognition of our loyalty (we haven’t flown any other airline in years) by inhaling the food buffet, and bathing in beer – just to get some of our money’s worth back for the THOUSANDS we have spent over the last couple of years.

So that was my plan.

Mrs AbuDhabilist had another idea about our schedule.

She brought her pack out and placed it next to mine and I sighed – soon, just me, beer in one hand, plate of carefully selected (based on expense) snacks in the other.
“Right then, let’s call a cab….”
“I haven’t done my makeup yet”
“……”
“What? Why are you looking like that, do you have wind?”
“….fng… make… checkin open….”
“FINE” she huffed, implying that this was my fault, even though we go through some hybridised version of this conversation EVERY time we are to travel.
With some flouncing she left.

Then after what seemed to be 56 hours she returned, looking exactly the same as she had BEFORE informing me that she had to do her makeup.

The cab was called, and promised to be at our door in 5 minutes.
In 15 it wasn’t, even though there had been much calling between the parties with much assuring going on that the cab was “2 minutes away”.
We arrived at check-in to drop our bags 45 minutes before boarding.

Then waited. 

Then went to passport control where Ms Perfect World was taken away by immigration for overstaying her visa.

Once clear of that (and after paying a fine) we were free to go and exact our revenge on the Guest Lounge.

Or we would have been if we weren’t  already 10 minutes late for boarding.

I stormed, my jaw clenching and unclenching, into the departure lounge area looking for anything that would approximate sustenance (my plan had involved not eating breakfast) and settled for a muffin and coffee from a handily placed Costa coffee bar.

Karma maintained silence, except for a couple of attempts at suggesting that none of anything can be helped.

I burned my tongue on the coffee.

After arriving in the departure lounge we ran into an ex workmate of Ms Sheepish’s. He and his new bride had been at the bar, drinking free beer for 2 hours.

Stammering erupted from my wife as I looked to her for explanation. It seems TT (Karma’s friend) had had a similar approach to the situation as I had planned.

Thankfully we had purchased (by mistake) business class tickets in the rush to secure a place on a plane after the holiday had been announced – so we had access to Etihad’s excellent inflight food and great wine selection.

I enjoyed 3 glorious glasses of Australian Shiraz – still felt like I had paid for it though.


1 comment:

  1. You should have bought discount business class tickets. There are several sold online for Nepal. By the way, its a beautiful country.

    ReplyDelete

Andrew Webber is a writer, living in Abu Dhabi with his wife, two cats and two dogs.

His first book "Erasure"was published in June 2012 and was followed in 2013 by the Prequel to Erasure "Broken".

For more information click the "Erasure" book cover on the left side of this site, or simply go to www.athwebber.com

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