I had always thought of myself as a savvy traveller. Surely anyone who is Platinum on numerous airlines knows a thing or two about getting around the world. It’s the rest of you that are the novices; we who are ‘the masters of the air’ look down our noses as we stride through the airport. Or so I thought, until now.
Pride comes before a fall, so the saying goes. Thus, ’twas those once-a-year travellers who had the last laugh when I turned up at Heathrow Terminal Four for my flight to New York. I tried to use the check-in machine. It wouldn’t check me in.
A nasty feeling started in the pit of my stomach and rapidly turned into a full-scale panic.
Finally the check-in agent confirmed what I had now realised.
I was indeed flying to New York – but not that day. I had turned up 24 hours early. Tail between legs, I asked if I could fly that day. ‘Please? Pretty please?’ Unfortunately, the connections didn’t work out… and I headed quickly back home.
I can already hear you chuckling, it could have been worse. At least I turned up 24 hours before the flight was due to leave, rather than 24 hours afterwards.
It has been many years since I have made such a faux pas. Once, I turned up to LaGuardia for a flight that went from Newark. Thankfully, I was able to re-route myself there and then, so no harm done!
And there have been other silly mistakes: I have tried to check in at the wrong hotel, swearing of course that it must be their mistake; I have caught the wrong train; I have driven to the wrong town… and I have left more things in hotel rooms, airports and planes than is decent.
Usually before the disaster struck I was puffed up like a penguin, only to deflate like a week-old party balloon, when my stupidity became clear.
I mention these misfortunes not to show how silly I can be, but to remind us all that we can convince ourselves of facts that simply are not the case…and when you live your life on the road, that is pretty easy to do.
For instance, you have heard the announcement made before they close the plane doors: ‘If such-a-place is not in your travel plans, come forward so we can re-direct you to your correct plane.’
I have always laughed, thinking how stupid can anyone be to get on the wrong plane. Until, that is, I sat next to someone, on the wrong plane! Poor man. The flight was from Houston – he wanted to go to Miami. We were going to New York. Of course when you hear how it happened it isn’t quite so ridiculous.
It was a tight connection from a red-eye flight. He was rushed onto the aircraft. Disorientated. Told to take any free seat…bingo! I have often wondered if he got the extra frequent flyer miles for the diversion.
I have spent my travelling life trying to add flexibility into my arrangements, always aware that if something goes wrong, I need to be able to keep going. My travel plans are kept in several places, including a cloud site.
Which also houses my contacts book, my major files and anything of importance (I use Livemesh from Microsoft, but there are plenty of others.) I travel with at least two phones and a BlackBerry. I have credit cards secreted around different places. I have always thought of myself as clever when it comes to travel.
The beauty of travel is that it does require us to be innovative and imaginative. When we are on the road we are not in our native environment.
We face new, interesting and usually challenging experiences. Perhaps these have been dulled to some extent by globalisation, which has spawned a homogenous commercial world with a Starbucks on every corner and an ATM at your beck and call.
As my travails show, however, there’s still room for confusion, error, mistake and mishap. And in the end, what makes our travels so interesting is the possibility that the ‘what if’ can happen.
So forget the thieves, vagabonds and villains waiting to pounce, what’s clear is that the traveller needs to be protected from themself.
If you see me on my travels – make sure I am on the right plane on the right day, going to the right place. And if I am not – don’t laugh!
Now then… I am not alone. What’s your worst tale of travel woe. Come on. Confess.
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