The taxi dropped me at Gibraltar airport in plenty of time. It was cool and overcast but generally pleasant. By the time I checked in my bag it was pissing down rain, thunder rumbled overhead and visibility had reduced to the point that the Rock was barely visible. For context the Rock is literally across the runway from the departure lounge. At that point I knew I was not going to be flying out of Gibraltar that day. It did however take some time for BA to acknowledge the obvious. The penny finally dropped when the plane I was supposed to be catching couldn’t actually land at Gibraltar and had to be diverted to Malaga.
Without a plane to herd people onto the staff seemed a little lost. Eventually someone remembered that the plane was at Malaga no doubt racking up the landing charges for every second it was on the ground. Inspiration! Buses would be procured and the hapless passengers shipped north into Spain for a belated encounter with the aircraft still patiently waiting to take somebody, anybody to London.
First we had to retrieve our luggage and carry same through the rain to Spain which was fortunately only a five minute walk away. Once through passport control we could find our Spanish buses, drive the hundred or so kilometres to Malaga, recheck our luggage, go through security again, go through another version of passport control and finally mount our metal pegasus for the journey to London. The BA staff at Gibraltar gave us a nose bag with some crisps, a bottle of water and a Boost bar to ward off unfortunate headlines about passengers starving to death on buses and waved us goodbye with every sign of relief.
My flight had been due to leave Gibraltar just after 3pm. It was after five when somewhat damp and with a totally unexpected stamp in my passport I settled down amidst a crowd of my peers and lunged into Spain. This part of Spain actually reminded me quite a bit of Australia only more Spanish. It was a little difficult to see much what with the rain, mist and a recalcitrant fellow passenger who point blank refused to let me sit in his lap to take photos or look out the window.
We went through many tunnels and past so many toll stations that I got nostalgic for Sydney and always we headed north deeper and deeper into Spain. I saw a sign that informed me that I only had 1033 kms before I reached Barcelona. The Spanish certainly believe in early warning. It was a while before I saw any signs that mentioned Malaga. I’m assuming the bus drivers just aim at Barcelona and look out for signposts on the way.
Our flight was supposed to be leaving at 8pm a time fast approaching. In a controlled panic I hurled my luggage at the check in staff and dashed for the exit. When I was nearly at the exit I stopped and turned around as I was actually looking for Security Control but had misread the sign. Despite these little dramas I made it to the gate where another bus drove us out into the far outskirts of the airport (we may actually have been back in Gibraltar). Finally we boarded the plane and a smooth voiced individual welcomed us on board, apologised for the delay and announced we would be leaving soon. He also told us smoking, including e-cigarettes was forbidden even in the toilets. He must have thought we were deaf because he repeated the bit about not smoking another half a dozen times over the next forty minutes while our plane sat on the tarmac and stubbornly refused to move.
Finally another bus turned up and disgorged two more passengers. This was the cue for the steward to welcome us onboard again and promise that we would really truly be leaving soon and of course that smoking, including e-cigarettes was forbidden even in the toilets. Then we waited another forty minutes or so until another bus appeared and deposited a single passenger next to our plane. They must have hitchhiked from Gibraltar. This time we really were leaving and the pilot announced as much and promised to get us to London in double quick time (too late). A safety briefing was held the highlight of which was the warning that smoking, including e-cigarettes was forbidden even in the toilets. I swear the steward is going to incorporate that phrase into his wedding vows.
Sometime later we finally arrived at Heathrow, the captain apologised for the headwinds which had delayed us. We didn’t care, we grabbed our bags and charged for the exits, which remained stubbornly closed. Apparently all of the ground staff had left for the night and we had to wait while they were dragged from their sleeping pens and herded back to the airport to release us from our metal prison.
Eventually we were set free and were able to depart the airport with the airline’s final farewell message ringing in our ears.
“Smoking, including e-cigarettes is forbidden even in the toilets.”
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