Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 18 degrees, cool, sunny and slightly overcast.
It is Thursday, and D-Day for returning to Brazil.
I think my mother hadn’t slept, because even though I had set my alarm for 4 a.m., she was calling me at 5 to 4. I am almost sure she’s happy I’m going and wants to make sure I don’t miss the plane.
The Asian taxi driver was knocking on the front door at 5 to 5. He seemed a little impatient as he started complaining that he did not want to hit the early-morning traffic, which would start appearing in about 20 minutes. I took out my suitcases; he put them in the boot, and I kissed and hugged my mother while she tried to lecture me on how to control Nalva.
I didn’t even stop to listen; I just wanted to get into the car and go.
The day is nice, with a slight early-morning chill and a little overcast, but nothing to worry about. In 45 minutes, we were arriving at Birmingham Airport. I paid the driver and left a tip, found the check-in, and in another 45 minutes, I had my boarding pass and both suitcases dispatched.
What I had not expected was the enormous kilometre-long queue for departures. Nowadays, with the need for security measures such as X-ray machines and body searches, passing through security is slow and tedious. Given the number of travellers and the lack of infrastructure to cope with the volume, it was hell on earth.
The queue for departure literally stretched out of the airport lobby and filled the entire car park; luckily, it was not raining. Imagine standing in the rain for an hour, waiting to go through security to board. It took an hour and a half, and a satchel full of patience, to get through.
We live in a paranoid and neurotic society where we, like sheep or cattle, are pushed, shoved, and manipulated in any direction the authorities want us to go. Body X-ray, baggage scans, we have to remove belts and shoes to ensure we aren’t carrying a bomb or harbouring malicious intent; pure paranoia, a consequence of the world we live in today.
Just as I was leaving the security check at departures and walking through the duty-free shopping area, a message appeared on my KLM app. When I opened it, I nearly had a heart attack. The flight was cancelled without explanation; it was simply cancelled. When I arrived in England in November, the same thing happened: the original flight was cancelled, and I only managed to fly the following day.
What a terrible airline this is!
I rechecked the KLM app and found a same-day rerouting option for 6:00 p.m., with stops in Frankfurt, Germany, and São Paulo, Brazil. It is not perfect or ideal; however, I am poor, so it’s that or the alternative: the airline reimbursing me and doing everything again later.
I pressed accept on the app and then looked for some people from KLM. Some air stewardesses were waiting for all the passengers from the cancelled flight. Some were angrier than others; however, we all knew that, really, it was not their fault. My worry now was whether Lufthansa would accept my paid-for suitcase. Obviously, I have been transferred from KLM to Lufthansa, and I don’t know if I will have to pay for the extra baggage again.
What was also a bitch was that I would have to collect my two dispatched suitcases at the conveyor belt, pass through customs, go out into the airport’s lobby, wander around and kill time until about 3:00 p.m. and do all the check-in and queuing again.
How fucked up is that???
I collected my suitcases. There weren’t any luggage trolleys readily available; I think you had to pay £3. I was hauling two largeish suitcases and a duffel bag; luckily, the suitcases had small wheels that helped enormously. I entered the airport’s lobby and found Costa Coffee with USB charging ports for my phone and watch. I journaled and drank two cappuccinos while trying to kill time.
At 2:30, I went to the Lufthansa check-in desk, where I nearly had my second heart attack of the day, as Lufthansa either could not or did not recognise my extra baggage payment to KLM; I would have to pay again, but this time it was more than double. Instead of £100 with KLM, it was now £220.
I had to sell crypto, transfer the money to another account and pay. This whole operation took about 10 minutes, and I was livid with KLM. My luggage was dispatched again, and I had to face the disembarkation queue again, but this time it was worse than this morning.
It was already out of the airport’s lobby and at the other end of the car park. It seemed that all of Birmingham was travelling today. I was in the queue for two hours and had not yet passed through security. I was close but had not gone through. I spoke to one of the attendants; he could see that if he did not let me go ahead, jump the queue, I would miss the flight, imagine.
I got through the queue, passed security, and ran to my gate on the other side of the airport, of course. The passengers had already been called, but I was there; if I am lucky, I will really embark this time. I got on the plane, found my seat, B, which is in the middle of three seats on the left-hand side.
A Brazilian Paulista couple appeared who would be split with me in the middle. I offered to move to the aisle so they could be together. They thought it was a good idea. I moved to the right next to the aisle, and we were all settled for the flight back to Brazil.
The plane, a Boeing 747, seemed clean and organised, and in 20 minutes it was taxiing out of the gate bound for Sao Paulo, Brazil.
I’m sure I’ve never had such a stressful day! It would have tested anyone’s nerves. Luckily, it was resolved quickly, and soon I’ll be in Rio to surprise Yasmin for her birthday. Throughout this chaos, I had messaged Nalva to let her know about my flight to Brazil. She suspected something was amiss, and I thought I might be returning.
We arranged for her not to tell Yasmin, so it would still be a surprise on her birthday.
What a day!!!
In bed by 1:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
