Friday, 25 February 2011

Blonde Moment

It all began fairly innocently on Wednesday evening at Leeds airport as I prepared to fly back to Germany. I'd arrived on time, checked in my bag, grabbed a cup of tea and was waiting in line at the gate waiting to board. I managed to safely navigate my way on to the tarmac without dropping my hand luggage, spilling my tea, losing my book page and, being the clumsy oaf that I am, I was congratulating myself on a job well done. On flashing my boarding pass and being directed to my seat I got myself comfortable, strapped on my belt and settled back in to my book. As I turned the page my ears pricked up and I tuned in to the loveliest of Irish accents. I am a sucker for the Irish accent. Seriously, my knees go wobbly and everything. I lived in Northern Ireland for a year and used to blush when the young lad in KFC asked if I wanted ketchup with my meal. I then realised that there were actually a whole group of Irish accents behind me and could feel girlishly giggles starting to build in my chest. Determined not to embarrass myself I desperately tried to refocus on my book but the melodic Irish brogues kept breaking through my concentration. About two minutes later a middle aged man approached me and announced in yet another Irish accent that he thought I might be sitting in his seat but that he was happy to toss a coin as to who sat on whose lap. Now at this point I started to wonder if there was some big football match between Northern Ireland and Germany that I was unaware of. Either that or I was being punked. Luckily this was soon cleared up by the pilot who announced that the flight to Belfast looked like it was going to be a smooth and clear one. Yes. Belfast.  A lovely city but a bit further east than I was hoping for seeing as I was supposed to be on a plane to Dusseldorf.

Mortified is not the word. I had to clamber out of my seat (which wasn't actually mine at all), walk (sprint) the entire length of the plane, bashing people round the back of the head with my handbag in my panic. The air steward, bless him, was lovely and calmly radioed to the Dusseldorf plane that 'we've got one of yours on ours' and I was rushed back across the tarmac and settled in to my new and improved seat. New and improved because it was actually mine. Oh happy days. The air stewardess on board the Germany flight laughed the whole way across the North Sea but, in fairness, I did get a free ham and cheese toastie.

Blonde moment aside, it's a bit worrying though isn't it? I got all the way onto a plane that I wasn't even supposed to be on despite having my boarding pass checked on three different occasions by three different people. Makes you wonder why they bother to get you to remove your shoes and check the inside of your toothpaste tube in the first place....

I love Belfast

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