A brisk winter wind that could freeze the marrow in your bone greeted myself and adorable wife on the 30th December upon our arrival at the train station. I was dressed casually in a shirt and light jumper, prepared primarily for an international flight from Birmingham to Dubai via Turkey.
My choice of apparel was quickly to be a problem, when, for some reason I decided, a tad late one might suggest, to double check the status of our train to the airport whilst en route to the station in a taxi. The word cancelled stared back out at me mockingly, daring me to react, one of life's cheeky taunts.
The train to the station is only hourly and we had foolishly changed our planned timeslot at the last minute because we were still lazing in bed. This momentary choice of slumber over action clearly had ramifications we had not considered.
The taxi driver offered to take us back home, but it seemed pointless, we were in effect at the PNR (point of no return) and figured there was little point paying for a round trip, only to need the service again soon after.
Train stations are not known for their warmth and Banbury is no exception. They are like lungs sucking in cold air and circulating it within the inner chambers. It was a notch over zero and I was dressed for a warm afternoon.
All options were considered; do we take a train to a different Birmingham station and backtrack? Do we just wait for the next one? Do we hire a taxi all the way to the airport?
Upon somewhat shaky advice from the chap at the station, who perhaps had not really grasped that people travelling to airports have a very defined deadline, we decided to wait upon assurance the next train would NOT be cancelled.
We had arrived in good time, and now had over an hour to wait. All we could really do was have a hot drink and let those waiting the other end know of our predicament. The minutes were ticking away and our window to arrive in appropriate time was dwindling. One good thing was that I had already checked in and chosen our seats online, so we had only need to arrive in time to get our bags checked in. All international flights close their counters one hour before the flight is due to depart. We had aimed to arrived at the airport at about 13.45, which was just under three hours before the flight. We had now lost an hour so this was more likely to be under two hours.
We waited, eyes forever drawn to the arrivals screen, anxiously checking for the dreaded word 'cancelled'.
The arrival time slipped. One minute late. Two minutes late. But no cancellation. Three minutes late. Wait, it's due on time now. No, false hope, it's back to being late.
With the final time overdue standing at ten minutes we finally opted to head to the platform, not wanting some sort of lift or stairs based incident to trip us up at the last hurdle. Now my light clothing was a genuine concern. I was shuddering uncontrollably, desparately awaiting this much needed transport to arrive.
'Bing bong', here comes the announcement that it is imminent, the announment began to list all the destinations the train was due to stop. Worryingly Birmingham Airport was not amongst them! Adorable wife and I looked at each other in panic. Was this not the right train? Was another due just after? But this was definitely heading where ours was.
The announcement continued, "the train will not be stopping at Coventry or Birmingham International", they explained casually "we apologise for any inconvenience".
Inconvenience?? Not getting to an airport is more than just inconvenient! Why are most people heading to such a place? To catch a flight. At a certain time. A very specific time!! How can you cancel public transportation to an airport?? At the very least some sort of alternative should be put in place.
As it was, the train was pulling into the station and one stop it was heading to was Birmingham New Street. It seemed our only choice was to take the train all the way there and then backtrack a little.
The wonder of modern technology allowed me to check what trains departed from New Street to International and when we were likely to arrive. That at least gave us a headstart on our rush to get to the right place. The problem now was the ever narrowing window of opportunity. This next train was already late and was going to arrive at New Street by just after 15:00. Our flight was scheduled for 16:30 so that gave us thirty minutes to catch the train to Birmingham International, get the shuttle to the airport, and get the to check-in counter. The trick now was to remain calm and cool. Panic and worry was not going to assist us.
I decided a wise option was to call the airline and confirm we were en route but were running extremely late. Again, the marvel of modern technology meant I could look up and dial their number whilst on the train. I'm not 100% convinced the chap I spoke to truly understood my concern, but he seemed confident there was no issue. Easy for him to say! The irony of the whole rush was that the plane was apparently also delayed by just over twenty minutes. But that didn't help because irrespective of delays, the counters always close one hour before the original schedule.
From my checks earlier I could see we had two potential trains to catch upon arrival at New Street, the 15:04, or the 15:10. It was a nine minute journey so my preference was the earlier to give us the maximum running time.
As we pulled into New Street, the conductor announced the next train to the airport was at 15:10, but I still thought we had time for the 15:04 and that was my aim.
Trying not to be too rude about it, we bustled to the front of the exit queue as best we could, suitcases in tow. I took charge of the two large cases, adorable wife the carry-on luggage. Not wanting to waste time hunting and waiting for lifts, we ran for the stairs, me lugging a combined weight of 40kg up.
Thank goodness for my exercise classes!
Aiming for the 15:04 I scurried across the station, only to yet again see the dreaded word, 'cancelled' mocking me on the screen. What was it with Crosscountry cancelling all their trains to the airport? Did they have something against us? Punishment for a cheeky lie in? Who knew! No time to ponder such issues right now. Luckily we knew the 15:10 was the next choice and we knew the right platform. Back down stairs with the cases.
Hurry hurry.
Yet I was filled with a curious sense of calm. We had time. We would get to the station at 15:19. That gave us 11 minutes to get onto the shuttle, arrive at the airport, and get to the counter. We knew the station, we knew where the counter was, so as long as this train arrived on time, and left on time, we would make it.
The train arrived on time.
The train departed on time.
The train arrived at Birmingham International at 15:19. Up stairs, across walkways, to the shuttle, awaiting its arrival. Here it is. We're on. It's moving. We arrive at the airport!
For once we used the lift because we know where it is, and we know the counter is around the corner. A family are just exiting the lift, so I sprint for it before it goes back down.
We're out of the lift and running for the counter. It's 15:29 by now, but we're there, and we can see two ladies still chatting at the check-in. Nobody else is around for obvious reasons, so we just trot up to the desk, apologise and...
..check-in!!!!
The first pit-stop after the last few hours of ticking deadlines was the toilet. By the time we arrived up the escalator I spotted our two check-in ladies walking past briskly. Clearly they closed up the second we were sorted. Talk about skin of your teeth!
Suitably refreshed we made our way through security and headed to our gate. Lo and behold, after all our panic to arrive in time, the flight itself ended up leaving over one hour late!
The flight to Turkey was actually perfectly amenable and uneventful. It was only when the pilot mentioned something about snow and rain upon our approach to Istanbul that my nerves were once again put on edge.
I'm not a fan of landings, I'm not ashamed to admit. Let's face it, the moment the large metal object hurtles towards asphalt at hundreds of miles per hour is rife with potential danger. Landing a jumbo is an extraordinary feat of man, machine, and technology working in harmony, considering it is achieved hundreds of times a day without a hitch. And I know it goes without a hitch, but my hairs still raise, and the buttocks still clench, and I am prone to clasping adorable wife's hand tightly.
As we descended through the clouds, the plane began to shudder, and make dramatic sudden dips. Looking around me, I saw mostly blank calm faces, until once particular jolt got even the hardiest traveller to ponder our fate, though many just laughed nervously.
In the dark and wet, it was hard to judge when the ground might emerge, so it was another shock to find the tyres had found the surface, albeit a juddering bump, and what felt to me like a skid. I'd swear the plane tilted a little, there was definitive wobbling back and forth, and for a brief moment of horror, the sensation of aquaplaning.
Yet seconds later the plane began to deccelarate and the ride smoothed out. Finally it felt safe to relinquish my grip on adorable wife's poor hand so she could shake the blood back into it!
From the end of your life momentarily flashing into view, to the dull reality of waiting for another delayed flight in an anonymous airport. We were tired, bored and a little fed up of the journey by now.
I bought some unidentifiable Turkish snack to whilst some time away, and we both tried to find ways to charge our mobile devices, such is their essential, how did we ever live without them, nature these days.
I'd popped on my headphones to try and chill for a bit, and adorable wife had nipped to the loo. Upon her return she asked me if they'd called our flight, because she thought she'd heard something vague about Dubai. I'd clearly heard nothing and the display on the gate had not changed. As far as I could tell our flight was still pending. But the queue was building and the way the journey had been so far, it was foolish to ignore the possibility our flight had been called. It was impossible to get to the staff and ask, so I thought I'd try a fellow passenger. The first attempt was a dud, the lady shrugged and said "no English", so I tried another, who said she also vaguely heard Dubai.
It seemed vaguery was the best we were going to get, and at least it was something to do. Everything was hastily bundled back into our bags and we joined the line. Still unsure if each step was getting us closer to our destination, we finally arrived at the counter where one word was all we needed to confirm all was well, "Dubai", the man said. Job done!
But once again my choice of attire
Finally, we were ready for the last stage of our journey.
Apart from the fact that the sub-zero temperatures meant they now had to spray a de-icing agent over the entire triple seven jumbo to prevent ice forming as we took off. This whole process took another forty minutes or so from when all the passengers had got settled. Now, clearly I'm not grumbling about the process, because I do not want to be on a plane what has not been suitably prepped for flight, it was just another delay one was unprepared for. Some people seem to have the ability to sit themselves onto a plane and fall instantly asleep. I am not one of those people. I'm lucky to snatch a few minutes of shut-eye on a 24 hour journey. I just can't get comfortable, I can't settle, I'm always ever so slightly wary of my environment and can never truly relax.
The flight, again, was no different than you would expect, shoddy food, bleary-eyed movie watching, seat shifting, loo queuing, and slightly nerve wracking descent. At least snow and rain were not an issue in desert bound Dubai.
We were about three hours later than planned upon arrival. Not that bad really, it just felt worse because of all the additional faff that started it all. However I was a little out of it nevertheless, and when adorable wife exclaimed I should look at our large suitcase, I saw nothing of interest at first glance.
She jabbed at the top corner and now I saw, clear as day, a huge chunk of the case was now flapping open. Luckily an inner cloth layer had prevented any contents from spilling out, but the case was clearly a goner.
After a full day of travelling, the last thing your mind really wants is to deal with beauracracy. Yet here we were, taking a number, waiting (im)patiently and then filling in forms and trying to remember how much the suticase had cost.
Adorable wife then noticed the smaller case also had damage and we tried to highlight this to the man behind the counter, but he dismissed this as minor. It was only later I realised I should have pushed the issue more, because the damage was more dramatic than it first appeared.
All this meant we lost another hour and didn't get out of the airport until midday, about four and a half hours after we were originally due to arrive.
Frustratingly the debacle of the damaged cases has managed to drag on to this very day. Rest assured the matter will feature in further instalments of my Dubai trip blogs!
All in all, it was an eventful trip, punctuated with sleeplessness, boredom, moments of panic and frustration, but ultimately, the main thing is we made it there safe and sound and finally reunited with adorable wife's sister and father and could look forwards to two whole weeks of Dubai!
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