Day Three and Four

Before I got through security at approximately 5:45, I had one more kink to work out: when I had initially checked (last night) to see if I could go through to the terminal, a woman scanned my boarding pass but said I couldn’t progress because my flight wasn’t going to leave that day. When I went to go the correct day, I was told that I was already on the other side, so I needed to get my name cleared from the system before they could let me through. I got back in a small line and was re-issued a boarding pass. Upon a second failure, the woman walked over with me to another desk to try to figure out what was going on. It remains a mystery, but three was a charm and I proceeded to security.

The other side of the terminal is an entirely new world. An ostentatious two-story Duty Free shop, Harrod’s, SonyLCD, Cartier, and a slew of other high-end shops line the walls. Even a sweet Porsche was on showcase in the middle of a floor. (For £20 you could get a chance to win it). But most importantly: I had breakfast, and oh was it glorious. As promised, I stopped at Gordon Ramsay’s Plane Food restaurant and ordered tea, Eggs Norweigian, and toast. And, Mom and Dad, the toast was served in a silver toast tray, much like what they tried to pass off as a prize in that golf tourney I was in years ago.

I bought some toiletries in the drug store to freshen up a bit, but a shower is something I would kill for now. I have about one hour before I can finally board for Istanbul (and they know I am coming today). I kind of wish I had more time to explore this end of Terminal 5, but it will be here upon my return. This two-day fiasco has had a very happy ending, and I actually enjoyed the time spent with my new friends. I was “queuing” with one (from Australia), and the other was a girl who was from the same town as him (yet they were complete strangers). He left at 6:25, but that poor girl doesn’t leave until 6:45 tonight. I have no idea if I could stand another twelve hours of this.

Terminal 5 is actually a beautiful place from the inside. And now, with the sun coming above the horizon and causing the clouds to glow beautifully around the edges, my morale has been restored, and I am ready to see this journey to its end.

And my day has just begun. It’s only 8:00 in the morning, and I have yet to reach my final destination.

Thirty minutes later: They cancelled my flight again. I was sent back out into arrivals (the ugly part) and was forced to pull out my bags from checking, which were among the 100 or so cancelled flights-worth of luggage on two conveyor belts. It was great fun.

I waited in line--the really long one--to get another ticket. This wait was only two hours, thank God. In hindsight, it is sad to give two hours in line and "only" status. I was booked for the following day at 9:30. I asked for a hotel room, and BA said they didn't do that, which is wholly untrue as I met people at the airport who had gotten a room from BA. Anyhow, I waited in another line with the hotel booker, and the guy said the cheapest I would be able to get was the Park Inn, which is sort of a knock off of Holiday Inn. The kicker: 218 pounds (to be fair, the going rate was 297, so I actually snagged a deal). After I was promised that that was the cheapest rate, I hesitantly handed over the credit card and hopped on the shuttle. I showered, which felt awesome, and then I walked around outside a bit, stopping at a pub for some fish and chips and mushy peas.

The next morning at 5, I woke up, showered, and hopped on the shuttle to return to my home of the past three days. A little delay indeed occurred, but I was able to leave London finally.