Last week in the wedding diaries we left our wedding tale heading to bed with several half packed suitcases and several more than half empty bottles of Whisky ready (or not at all ready as the case may be) to set off for the airport first thing in the morning. Now you know that nervous feeling you get when you set off for a holiday and you keep checking your pockets to make sure you’ve got your tickets even though it’s all electronomical now (yes I am technical, honest!) and you only really need your passport which you also think you’ve forgotten but is invariably to be found in the pocket you didn’t know you had except when you put the most important document you own into it? (Breathe) Well we had that… only multiplied by about a billion.
We had so much stuff to get over with us, several parts of which were highly breakable and we kept thinking we’d forgotten something despite leaving the house more or less bare. At one point Dom actually suddenly sat bolt upright in the car and shouted “KEVIN!!!” at the top of her voice but was relieved when I reminded her that we don’t have any children, let alone any named Kevin, that we hadn’t forgotten any and that Kevin had proved in both Home Alone 1 & 2 that he can pretty much take care of himself anyway just so long as he had some beads, a blowtorch, a gangster movie and a dictaphone. Anyway, that morning we needed to leave by 09:30 and things were immediately off to a bad start.
Naturally, being an extremely exciting day and one we were eager to get on with to make sure we were at the airport in plenty of time, as if the way of things we overslept. The 5 minutes I allowed myself to snooze turned out to be more like 45, and after awaking Dom and expressing the urgency with which we needed to get up, Dom finally arose somewhat confuddled some time later. Fortunately breakfast was already on and so I wolfed down a Sausage sandwich whilst throwing freshly cleaned laundry into the already full to bursting suitcases. It was absolute chaos and having told Liam I would be leaving at 09:30 come what may and that he needed to be ready he did look particularly smug as he stood tapping his watch whilst I continued to throw bags around and try to get out on time.
Eventually though we hit the road, pursued by phone calls from those still at the house checking we’d remembered to take both the bathroom and kitchen sinks. We were still basically on schedule, although it was with some dread that I remembered the 50mph average speed check zone that had seemed to last almost the entire journey the last time I headed to Manchester! Still, we were off and having made pretty good time getting past York we were, critically, still able to drive through the McDonalds outside of Leeds and pick up a cup of tea. At this point we rang Kathryn and Peter as they were just behind us in leaving to check on their progress… apparently Peter had lost the Sat Nav and Dom’s younger brother Alex had just gotten out of bed… maybe this was a Home Alone movie after all!
The time seemed to fly by as we steadily climbed the Pennines at a gentle 49MPH and watched both of the workmen hard at work on the M62 roadworks. We discussed philosophy, literature and the arts, and after establishing none of us knew anything about them we pondered on whether we’d each rather be a badger or an aubergine… or something like that anyway, I forget the details. Anyway, as we approached the airport and discussed the location of our pre-ooked though one thing did become apparent… The Sat Nav didn’t actually have the foggiest where we were trying to get to.
Normally when people pull out a smartphone in such circumstances I’m a little relieved that come what may we can always find where we need to be. But when 3 people pull out iPhones and start typing directions into Apple maps you really could end up anywhere! Worried that we may start receiving directions such as “Turn right at Nova Scotia and avoid the Giraffe” I aimed for the airport in the hopes that there would be sign posts to my place of parking. I didn’t hold up too much hope however as having paid very little for a week’s parking there was every possibility I would actually be parking closer to La Palma and getting the shuttle bus back to Manchester.
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After driving around in a few circles we eventually found the right sign post and indeed the correct postcode for the car park rather than the one on the directions they’d sent me and got ourselves parked. **EDITORS NOTE: A little tip at this point, if you’re going to write the parking area and aisle number in your phone then do make sure your phone is actually charged when you come back!!** The feeling of relief upon arriving at the airport in good time was, I must say, quite extraordinary; whatever happened the Bride and Groom would be flying to La Palma!
This feeling of relief lasted approximately 10minutes, ceasing at about the point that we went to check in electronically and as I slid my passport into the machine it returned the message “BOOKING ERROR… PLEASE SEE CHECK-IN AGENT”. Trying to disguise my heart attack from my soon-to-be wife we joined the stupidly long queue and, despite my looking white as a sheet and sweating profusely by the time we reached the desk, we somehow managed to get checked in without any baggage or ticket related problems. Now for the next stress: would everyone else make it? We joined the queue at passport control and waited for more info.
By the time we got through to the other side after more lengthy queuing we were relieved to find out that everyone joining our direct flight had made it to at least the vicinity of the airport. Time for a cup of tea and some breakfast!
After realising that terminal 2 at Manchester is not at the centre of the world’s most exciting culinary destinations we joined ANOTHER CUE for a ludicrously expensive cooked breakfast. About halfway through queuing and whilst contemplating going elsewhere for our food Dom rather jumped the gun a little and started to choke before we’d even bought breakfast! As you would expect Liam and I Immediately leapt into action and I ran to the drinks section to buy a bottle of water. When I swiftly returned Dom felt decidedly better after gulping down some “Agua mineral” but I became concerned that Liam had disappeared completely. Was he still searching for water? Had he run to get medical assistance that was no longer required? I thought I’d best run after him before the ambulances arrived…
Turning the corner I discovered his location. Apparently after signing the legal papers and with the wedding pending imminently Liam had already officially passed responsibility for his sister onto me, as his response to the emergency was to join the (to be fair pretty lengthy) queue for Burger King… It was an unusual way of giving his blessing to the wedding but no doubt meaningful to Dom nonetheless!
Anyway, against all the odds we all got on the plane. I even managed to get some good, very cheap whisky at Duty Free (although it did leave me pegging it to the gate at the last minute after not realising I’d need my passport to buy them!) Anyway, with news that some of our friends on another flight had already reached La Palma we got our directions to our seat (surprisingly enough “straight down the plane and stop at the number it says on the ticket”) and sat down for a long flight, amused to see that the only four people who were scared of flying had been seated together.
We were on the plane… nothing could go wrong now right?!
The curse had other ideas…
