Yeah, well, not in this case. All I wanted to do was get there. 'There' was Paris, and it's the 'getting' that wasn't that easy.
First of all there was the packing. I've realised that if you pack a case a few days early, close it and leave it, all the clothes squash down and over subsequent days even more can be fitted in. Although some acrobatics and grunting may be necessary to shut it on the last day, the case will miraculously contain 23 kg of stuff in it's rather tight confines. Then there's the early morning drive to the airport (thank you) and the sudden realisation that....the diary (argh) and purse (double argh) are nowhere to be found. This means no cards, no money, and no codes for the back-up cards that you do have. This means: a long and thirsty day.
I check my foreign cash reserves that were in a separate purse and I have two 5 euro notes - enough for a train ticket into Paris. It just means no water in Edinburgh, no newspaper, no tea, no snack...all of which I can live without, although the water bit is somewhat trying. I do have plenty of credit on my SIM card though, so manage to text a few people about my plight.
Who knew Air France did not serve lunch on it's lunchtime flight between Edinburgh and Paris?
I'm sure the last time I took it they served some sort of mini-sandwich + biscuit combo, but on this flight there was a measly half glass of orange juice, some salty pretzels (not the best when you are thirsty) and a shortbread biscuit. I'd chosen a window seat, couldn't get out and the drinks trolley did not pass a second time. Instead, we land in mid-20 degree heat and we are cooking in our little tin plane for the 30 MINUTE taxi to the terminal (I know, not that hot, but the hottest I've been in about 2 months). I've no idea why we ended up at the Big Flight International Terminal (flights from/to Asia, Australia, the US...not normally from Scotland) but it meant there was a plane on our stand, so more waiting, and then a queue of 500 international arrivals at passport control, and of course all of their baggage at the carousel. Seriously, it was no fun at all.
And then the problems really started.
Well, I had the cash to get a train ticket, but not the means. The machines only take cards and I didn't have any, and the change machines only give change of a 10 euro note. There is one newsagents, and she point blank refused to give me a 10 euro note instead of two 5s, even when I offered to buy something with my spare change. I eventually got a 10 euro note from a random stranger in the queue for the information kiosk, but all this took a long time, during which I became quickly aware that I was unnecessarily wearing a woollen winter coat, boots and a scarf. I must have looked like a bag lady by the end of it all, but at least I had my ticket.
Yes, but not a wheelie case that would wheel. I dragged those 23kg right across Paris because the wheel of the case managed to become misaligned during the flight somehow. Credit where it's due, the Samsonite case has been abused for many years and never has the zipper strained nor broken despite what I subject it to closing. But I didn't expect the wheel to be the first thing to go (second, if you count the over-stretched clothes section lining inside, but that is certainly my fault).
I was almost there when the continual banging of my hand luggage against my leg finally broke my boot strap.
Funny how all that can fade to 'just another good story' at the sight of a warm welcome (and the cheering news that UPS are already in possession of my essentials and are delivering them tomorrow. Thanks again!).
