Travel Bugs
Trip One: July 2006
I had to spend eight hours in London to get the flight to Asia, a step away from the mysterious Oz. I thought: “it's gonna be ok”. Anyone who's ever stepped in Heathrow can tell you that: “It's NOT ok!” Nonetheless I could find a piece of serenity in one of these glass boxes where if you smoked – you'd die from it straight away. The amount of oxygen available in said box is around nil.
Anyway I survived and the rest of the trip went well. We landed in Darwin at about 4am and a whole new world welcomed me in the warmth of the night. Then we waited for the luggage to be brought out. One after the other, the people left. And I was still waiting. Too long. Being such a good English speaker at the time it took me about an hour to explain my situation and fill in the form. Fortunately some very, very patient guy at the hostel helped me to call the airport everyday for a week. From what I understood - when he tried to sum up what they'd said, the luggage was lost in London. Now I had a really good reason to dislike Heathrow.
Trip Two: December 2006
It was getting close to Christmas, I'd been away from home for six months and was the first from my family to go that far around the globe. I was very surprised how easy this trip went. But do you remember England in December 2006? I do. Fog and Ice were everywhere and every British Airways flight was cancelled. Try and guess what company was in charge of getting me home?
I landed in the middle of the biggest mess in British airport history! My hatred for Heathrow grew. The only solution available was to get a room (that I couldn't afford) or to head for the Eurostar. But first the unlucky – and by that time angry - travellers had to carry their luggage onto the London Underground. Just picture a cattle train, fully loaded. Now imagine an elephant trying to get on. That was me. It took three hours of queuing to get a ticket, that was worth a lot (a good share of my Christmas shopping budget) but it was my ticket to freedom.
Trip Three: January 2007
Tired of the bitter European cold, I went back to the land of perpetual sunshine. A very nice flight to Singapore was followed by a few hours of window-shopping in the duty-free section. Then came the next flight. When showing my passport and ticket, the security guards ask me to wait on the side. Weird. They say my Visa needs to be checked. Why's that? I used the same Visa six months ago and there was nothing wrong with it! Obviously the office they were trying to contact can't be open 24/7 and it's already midnight. The plane doors are closing. What will I do now? Surprisingly they let me go and I'm the last person to get into the plane - starred at by the passengers already angry about the delay. I closely avoided being bashed by a few hundred fellow travellers. That was when I grew to dislike Singapore Airport.
Trip Four: July 07
I'd already survived three attempts of mental incapacitation on trips through Europe and Oz so arriving in Singapore from Cairns, brought with it a new anxiety. Half of the trip is behind me but that was too easy. I was then told that because my second flight wasn't booked with the same company, I should have changed my ticket when I landed earlier. How the hell am I supposed to know that?
Here's the best bit. The counter is open from 7am to 7.30pm on week days only. It's Friday night. I'm stuck. I can't even pay for a meal. I have to stay here, in the Transit section, until Monday evening to get a ticket for a plane I'm not booked onto anymore! I spend the last coins I've got to call my family and explain the situation. The next day, my Mum calls back. She went crazy over the phone and got me a booking. Super Mum saves my world again. After wondering about for twenty-eight hours in Singapore, I decided I definitely hate Transit.
- Marianne Malle
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