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Having spent a couple of weeks arranging to go to Atlanta then New York, we reached Gatwick, having checked in and got to the gate. We had twenty minutes pre flight departure. I decide I want some newspapers and a book. EaZyD goes and comes back, sweating. He has forgotten his wallet, which has my credit cards in it. We have no cash, no credit cards and are over one hour from home, with our bags on the plane. We ring for help, but, no, it’s the weekend everywhere – maybe on Monday!
With heavy hearts, we trudge to the departure gate and explain. ‘This happens more often than you think,’ they said. We wait forty minutes while they get our luggage off the plane and someone escorted us back through customs. ‘Call the airline – they might be able to reschedule you.’ And, no, in a wheelchair, you never go and sort it out later...
Costa coffee was there. ’I need a coffee!’ We sat with our lattes; EaZyD hunted for his mobile to call for our car – parked so recently. NO! He had lost his mobile between the departure gate and coffee shop! EaZyD totally lost his cool - even more so when the airline refused point blank to help find it. ’Call lost property in 48 hours.’ I had 3 more lattes whilst EaZyD ran around the airport, for two hours, shouting at everyone then calmed down enough to consider going home...a home journey where we managed to miss the M4 exit because of the shite roadwork’s and shite signposting, so spent an extra thirty minutes driving round the car park known as the M25.
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