Stuck in London
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The Park Inn. Nothing fancy, but the swim in the pool was nice.It’s Friday night and I am supposed to be on a plane to Nairobi, but I find myself here in a room at the Park Inn, a stone’s throw away from Heathrow. It’s been an exhausting day.
It started innocently enough. I got up at 8am to see Gail and Colin off to work and to say our goodbyes. After a leisurely breakfast, I began the final stages of my packing and the rearranging of the luggage so I could get everything I had into my bags. It was a formidable task. I had some 28 dictionaries and other books destined for the school I will be teaching at as well as almost a hundred wall posters rolled up, some in tubes and some not. Things moved along steadily but at some point I realized that two bags were just not going to do it, so I switched to the 3-bag choice. The difference at the airport would only be $20…nothing major.
Things were slowly getting down to my target departure time of 2:30pm. I wanted to arrive extra early for my 7pm flight as I had extra luggage to check in and didn’t want to be shut out if there were lots of people ahead of me with extra luggage as well. I ran a quick errand around 1:30pm and got back in time with about 30 minutes to spare before the taxi was to arrive. I popped in the shower, emerging with just 10 minutes left, and pretty much all set to go. And calm.
As the taxi was just about to pull up, I put on my jacket, pocketed my phone and my wallet and my…..passport. Shit. Where’s my passport?!? I frantically gave myself a pat-down any cop would have been proud of. Nothing. Gave a quick check through my carry-on knapsack. Nothing. Rifled through the bags. Nothing.
Panic.
I looked out the window. No cab. So I searched the bedroom, emptying bags, looking under beds, going through the closet. Did the cleaning lady find it and put it somewhere? Dumped out a bag of garbage and went through it, then put it back. Emptied out my knapsack and came up empty. Real panic was setting in.
I called Gail, got her answering service and left a crazy message. Checked the window again. No cab. Went through all the bags, my jacket, my knapsack, the bag of garbage, and everything else again. Nothing. Impossible!
Finally got a call from Gail. I told her I thought maybe the cleaning lady might have done something with it; she told me that perhaps it had been nicked in the tube. We hung up and she went to call the cleaning lady. No dice. So she called and left a message on the Canadian consulate’s emergency line. I called the cab company to cancel the cab…my passport was just nowhere to be found.
No way, couldn’t be happening. Not something as important as this! Not at the last second! I never misplace my passport! Checked everything again and for some reason this time checked the inside pocket on my travelling backpack….and it was there.
I was covered in sweat. I phoned the cab company back, hoping that the cab hadn’t left yet. Turns out he had been sitting across the street in an unmarked minivan and was still there, about to head home. I hung up, rushed all the bags downstairs. Called Gail and took off. I had lost an hour.
After the tense drive to the airport I arrived with just 2 hours to spare before the flight. Walking in the door with all my bags, a Virgin Atlantic agent greeted me, asking where I was headed. “Nairobi.”
“Sorry, Sir. Your flight has been cancelled. Please head to that counter to discuss arrangements.”
Incredulous. So here I am, still in London. I am now on tomorrow night’s flight since taking a BA flight in the morning and arriving at 9pm in Nairobi would do me no good. Better to just shift everything one day. The hotel isn’t swank, but the food is really good. Too bad I’ll have the whole day to kill tomorrow before the 7pm flight.
It started innocently enough. I got up at 8am to see Gail and Colin off to work and to say our goodbyes. After a leisurely breakfast, I began the final stages of my packing and the rearranging of the luggage so I could get everything I had into my bags. It was a formidable task. I had some 28 dictionaries and other books destined for the school I will be teaching at as well as almost a hundred wall posters rolled up, some in tubes and some not. Things moved along steadily but at some point I realized that two bags were just not going to do it, so I switched to the 3-bag choice. The difference at the airport would only be $20…nothing major.
Things were slowly getting down to my target departure time of 2:30pm. I wanted to arrive extra early for my 7pm flight as I had extra luggage to check in and didn’t want to be shut out if there were lots of people ahead of me with extra luggage as well. I ran a quick errand around 1:30pm and got back in time with about 30 minutes to spare before the taxi was to arrive. I popped in the shower, emerging with just 10 minutes left, and pretty much all set to go. And calm.
As the taxi was just about to pull up, I put on my jacket, pocketed my phone and my wallet and my…..passport. Shit. Where’s my passport?!? I frantically gave myself a pat-down any cop would have been proud of. Nothing. Gave a quick check through my carry-on knapsack. Nothing. Rifled through the bags. Nothing.
Panic.
I looked out the window. No cab. So I searched the bedroom, emptying bags, looking under beds, going through the closet. Did the cleaning lady find it and put it somewhere? Dumped out a bag of garbage and went through it, then put it back. Emptied out my knapsack and came up empty. Real panic was setting in.
I called Gail, got her answering service and left a crazy message. Checked the window again. No cab. Went through all the bags, my jacket, my knapsack, the bag of garbage, and everything else again. Nothing. Impossible!
Finally got a call from Gail. I told her I thought maybe the cleaning lady might have done something with it; she told me that perhaps it had been nicked in the tube. We hung up and she went to call the cleaning lady. No dice. So she called and left a message on the Canadian consulate’s emergency line. I called the cab company to cancel the cab…my passport was just nowhere to be found.
No way, couldn’t be happening. Not something as important as this! Not at the last second! I never misplace my passport! Checked everything again and for some reason this time checked the inside pocket on my travelling backpack….and it was there.
I was covered in sweat. I phoned the cab company back, hoping that the cab hadn’t left yet. Turns out he had been sitting across the street in an unmarked minivan and was still there, about to head home. I hung up, rushed all the bags downstairs. Called Gail and took off. I had lost an hour.
After the tense drive to the airport I arrived with just 2 hours to spare before the flight. Walking in the door with all my bags, a Virgin Atlantic agent greeted me, asking where I was headed. “Nairobi.”
“Sorry, Sir. Your flight has been cancelled. Please head to that counter to discuss arrangements.”
Incredulous. So here I am, still in London. I am now on tomorrow night’s flight since taking a BA flight in the morning and arriving at 9pm in Nairobi would do me no good. Better to just shift everything one day. The hotel isn’t swank, but the food is really good. Too bad I’ll have the whole day to kill tomorrow before the 7pm flight.
posted by CHRIS at 10:54 p.m.
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