How it started.
I began my journey to Australia. In order to get there I have to spend almost 48 hours traveling, including 24 hours up in the sky.
I’m not even half way there and already had minor adventure.
Since I’ve been waiting too long to get my tickets I was forced to buy not very satisfying connection. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy flying, watching movies displayed on little screen on board and entertain myself observing others, struggling with their backpacks or queue to the gate.
Airports have always fascinated me; so spacious and bright no matter which part of the day (or night) is. Happy people going on vacations, grumpy people coming back home. Hellos and goodbyes, tears and joy; travellers with purpose and others, without fixed plans. Not sure if there’s different place where I can feel so many extremely opposite vibes.
I just love it.
Early morning flights were never my favourite. Didn’t sleep much prior my arrival to Warsaw so when I get to the airport at 4am (my flight was at 8am – yes, I consider 8am as early morning) I feel like zombie. I stay awake enjoying one of my Australian books till the time is right and I can proceed to my gate.
Up till now everything goes smoothly. I got window seat and within less than 2 hours I land in Milan.
Where the drama begins.
Upon my check-in in Warsaw I was told that my next tickets (Milan – Hong Kong and Hong Kong – Denpasar) I’ll get in Italy at “transfer desks”. Never happened to me before but it’s not like I’ve been flying to distant places on daily basis so I was cool with that.
I only forgot that it’s Italy we are talking about and things not always work the way we expect them to work.
It didn’t take much time for me to spot “transfer desk” sign which I, happily, followed. Once I got there it turned out that accept for a cleaning man, there are no other employees. I got slightly concerned but I figured I’ll ask the guy. It turned out he was very busy, talking on the phone, yet still managed to look at disorientated me and pointed exit gates.
No, no, no, my dear – I thought, but then I added out loud: I’m looking for transfer desk.
VBM (Very Busy Man) pointed different direction and considered my problem solved.
I had nothing better to do so I took the advice from VBM.
Quite soon I noticed another “transfer desk” sign, which made me keep going, and I felt better about it. Unfortunately only to the point where instead of “transfer desk” I saw immigration stands.
Once I approach my immi officer and gave him passport, he immediately asked:
Where’s your boarding pass?
I don’t have it.
So then I explained why I don’t have it but he still had unhappy face till the moment I said:
I went to transfer desk but no-one was there.
His face frowned, he took a deep breath and totally unexpectedly smiled to me and mumbled:
Ah, yes, yes, I know.
I took my phone out, showed him my booking email and he let me go while saying “have a safe flight”.
I continued my airport adventure by following the sign, hoping that my tickets await right behind next corner. How wrong was I? I did, indeed, found second “transfer desk” but once I saw what’s going on over there (or what’s NOT going over there) I thought I’m in some hidden camera show.
It was empty.
Just like the previous one. Without VBM. With “information” desk near by, and, of course, without a person that should work there.
With face of disappointment I went up to an employee at currency exchange stand, hoping that she will give me a hint of what to do in a situation like this, because, truth to be told, I was getting a bit annoyed (and terrified) by this entire situation. I heard I should just go to my gate and then “an hour before your departure someone from the crew should show up and they will instruct you what to do”.
So I went, meanwhile trying to get rid of not-very-comforting thoughts that were making me not-so-calm.
No, but… seriously, what if it turns out that nobody from the crew will give me my tickets, stating that I should have had them before?
Guess what? It actually happened!
I’m kidding. Someone arrived to the gate quite soon and within next 20 min I had my tickets.
I guess there’s a reason why N. calls me Drama Queen.
Where am I now?
I’m writing this post while flying somewhere over Batumi. So far my flight has been good, accept for this awkward part when Asian girl sitting next to me started to cry while watching a movie and I didn’t know what to do. I have 7224 km left to Hong Kong, which equals 8 hours and 6 minutes to kill so I will just go to sleep.
Hong Kong, here I come!