Airlines Hate Me

Happy Canada Day!

My flight didn't leave until 1pm, which made a nice change from having to get up at the crack of dawn to head to the airport. On the way into the city, mum and I passed what I thought was a really funny sight to mark the end of my time in Alberta...

So country. I also soaked in the last views of the big blue prairie sky - still and always the thing I miss the most about Alberta, though the sky in Edinburgh is much bigger than the sky in Sackville ever was, so it isn't quite as bad as it used to be.

Also, elk.

Like I said in my previous post, I love the way that the land they drained to build the highway just fills right back up with water (I pointed out all the water to Connie while driving past it, she then informed me that it is because they drained marshland, a fascinating insight that I never knew before).

We really wanted to drive through the brand-new airport tunnel, but missed the turnoff for it, so Connie pulled an illegal u-turn (like the rebel she was) so we could go through it.

It was very exciting.

And then I got to the airport and the fun began. I checked my bag (exactly 50lbs, whatup, I am the queen of packing), bid Connie au revoir, and proceeded to head to my gate. I was wandering around trying to decide whether I wanted an ice cap or a passionfruit lemonade to be my last Canada drink, when I thought I heard my name on the intercom, but was unable to hear anything else. A couple of minutes later, same thing, I heard my name, but what came after it was just garbled. Finally, the third time I caught that they wanted me to come to the WestJet service desk. I was told by the dude there that my flight to Toronto was delayed. I was supposed to be flying Calgary-Toronto-Amsterdam-Edinburgh but would be missing my Amsterdam connection due to the delay. He then told me I would be flying direct to Amsterdam instead, but after agreeing to let me on the flight, KLM then changed their mind and told WestJet I couldn't get on that one. After a bit more searching, the dude managed to get me on a British Airways flight to London, then from London to Edinburgh. I was pretty stoked, because that significantly cut down my travel time, and took away two connections, but it didn't leave until 10pm, and it was about noon by then. Yay. The guy gave me food vouchers for $40 for the Calgary airport, as he informed me that I wouldn't be able to get in-flight meals, and then told me I'd have to leave the secure area and then go back through security.

Fun.

I did that, and then grabbed some Tim Hortons for lunch and prepared to wait.

Just before getting on the flight, I also purchased a whole bunch of food from Starbucks with the rest of the money I'd been given, for my upcoming breakfast and lunch the next day (to my great distress, they were out of passionfruit, so I had a green tea lemonade, which, while good, is no passionfruit).

Eventually I boarded, about eight hours after I got to the airport. I made my way to my seat (a window seat) and sat down. I had only been sitting for a couple of minutes before the stewardess approached me and told me that she had noticed how tall I was when I walked past her, and, if it was possible, would I like to sit in the emergency exit row? To which I said yes, obviously, and a couple of minutes later she gestured for me to come up to the exit row. So for my flight from Calgary to London I was sat next to the window in the emergency exit row, with no one next to me. The attendant was really friendly, as was the English dude sat in the middle part of the row, and I chatted with them quite a bit.

We were late both taking off and landing, which meant that I ended up missing my connection to Edinburgh (Heathrow is HUGE) but it was fine because they got me on another one leaving an hour after that. And after going through customs and them back through security (for the third friggin time) I only had a little wait until my flight left.

When I got to Edinburgh I hopped on the bus, but was falling asleep, so woke up and panicked and got off at the totally wrong stop, ages away from any bus station that could take me home. After walking two blocks bent in half (my suitcase handle broke somehow while I was at home, and wouldn't pull out anymore) I just hailed a cab. It wasn't until the next day when I was crossing my legs that I noticed the huge black bruise on the back of my leg where the suitcase had been banging against them while I was walking, as well as more bruises down the length of my legs. So lesson learned: if you wake up on the bus, don't just panic and get off.