I WAS looking forward to my week's holiday in Lanzarote. However, I certainly wasn't too enamoured about getting out of bed at 4.30 am for my flight from Dublin airport.
With the aid of two alarm clocks, I was up and on my way at 5 a.m. it went like a slick military operation. it was too good to be true. Something had to go wrong ... and it did. I got a puncture in Fairview at 5.30 a.m. it was the first puncture I've had in eight years. I bought the car a year ago and I hadn't a clue where anything was. First, I had to unload all the suitcases from the boot. I turned the sky blue with four letter niceties. What a time to get a puncture. (is there ever a good time?)
I floundered around in the semi-darkness, but impressed my wife with the speed in which I fitted the spare. if any of the Formula One racing teams out there are looking for a good pits man, my home number is...
Loads of time
I arrived in the airport, out of breath, with filthy, greasy hands and on the verge of a heart attack. Still, I was there. And I was well on time ... I had enough time to wander around the duty free and buy a few bottles of lemonade and a bit of whiskey to mix with it.
Everything was going hunkey dorey. Then we were told our flight was delayed. I couldn't believe it. "This is not happening," I muttered to myself, but it most certainly was. Wait for further information, said the announcer in that neutral whiney voice you get at airports and railway stations.
The next announcement still haunts me. "We have sent to London for a spare part," came the announcement, in a totally deadpan voice. A woman near me put her hand over her mouth and said hoarsely: "My God, a part. She was worried. I was impassive, playing the part of the calm hero. Nearby, a big guy with a panama hat and four kids joked: "What part - a wing?"
Later, we were told the part had arrived and we could board. It transpired that the part was for the radio. I mean, you can't be up there flying at 35,000 feet and have no contact with ground control. Anyway, the radio was working, we fastened our safety belts and looked forward to the journey to sunny climes. Just as we were all nice and comfortably fastened into our seats, the announcement came that the radio had packed it in. Everybody out. We all disembark and are given breakfast vouchers.
After breakfast we are called back. We flop into our seats again. A few minutes later an authoritative voice says: "Sorry, we thought the radio was working, but it has gone on the blink again." (I'm not making up this story) We were told, to get off and were given lunch vouchers. After lunch we were informed that there had been no improvement in our dodgey radio and we were to wait for further information. Well, the hours went by, flights came and went, but we were going nowhere. At this stage we were being given vouchers for drinks. I started scoffing Black Bush whiskey...
Getting emotional
The tall guy with the panama hat and Dublin accent was scathing about the English airline. "The trouble with these small airlines is that they only have two planes - one for flying and the other for parts." Never was a truer word spoken in jest. We complimented him on his wit and insight.
Now, with me when I've had a few drinks, I just get sleepy and harmless. But there are others who get very belligerent. A lot of people were getting very emotional about our plight. I couldn't really blame them. Many had small children in tow and it is no joke spending hours hanging around Dublin airport when you are supposed to be in sunny Lanzarote.
So what did they do? They set their sights on the unfortunate representative of the travel company. She was an attractive, nice mannered girl who probably came from a very respectable family, but nothing in her background had prepared her for her experience that day. She did her best to diplomatically explain to the angry crowd that they were doing everything possible to ensure that the plane would take off, etc.
I have never been at a coursing meeting, but I believe it can be quite horrific when the hounds catch the hare and tear it limb from limb. That is the best analogy I can make about what happened to that unfortunate lady. I felt sorry for the verbal mauling inflicted on her. It wasn't her fault that the damn radio wasn't working. Being a devout coward I did not interfere. The arguing became so intense that the airport police started to sidle up. it was looking bad.
I'm not a greats believer in miracles, but just as the pack was moving in for the kill the announcement came over the tannoy that the flight to Lanzarote was ready to leave, (12 hours late). A huge cheer went up and everyone charged to the boarding gate, amid tears of joy and relief. The ordeal was over. The travel representative, just when she thought she was going to lay down her life for her employers, found herself standing on her own safe again surrounded by silence . The Power of prayer, she thought.
Book of jokes
I wasn't that worried about the whole business, as the whiskey was good and I was reading a very funny book of jokes. One of the jokes is worth repeating. The gorilla in the Zoo dies. it is high season and it is too late to get a replacement. They advertise for an actor to play the part of the gorilla. The dignified actor arrives, explains that he didn't usually this play type of part, but "I'm a bit strapped for cash at the moment..."
He dressed up as a gorilla and started jumping up and down, pounding his chest. The public were impressed and clapped him. The actor became more confident and started to jump higher. Then he got over-ambitious and began to swing from tree to tree. Unfortunately, he swung so high that he soared out over the railings and into the lions cage.
He panicked and screamed: "Let me out, let me out .. ." He continued to shout and wave his arms. One of the lions sidled up and hissed into his ear: "Shut your mouth or you'll get us all sacked."
There were a few other good jokes in the book so it was no time before we were at our destination, at our Lanzarote apartment. The door of the apartment was so stiff that I had to take a run at it and knock it in with my shoulder. I collapsed into bed, exhausted. I was only asleep a short time when a big generator started pounding away under my room. I had barely focused on this problem when I realised that there was a very tough mosquito zipping around the room like a MIGjet. I tried to avoid him by pulling the sheets over my head, but the little bastard bit me on the hand.
The next day, after complaining, we were given a generator and mosquito-free apartment. The rest of the holiday went well. I got a lovely tan and the plane on the return journey had two wings and a fully intact radio.