Travelling home: Part II

So to recap Part I, after a connecting flight from Osaka to Tokyo Haneda airport, I was waiting there overnight until my 6.25 am British Airways flight back to London. And I was having a grande time, blogging and feeling excited about going home. But, I was also extremely tired and at 3 am I made one of the worst decisions of my life; to have a nap.

I set my alarm for an hour later, thinking that would leave me plenty of time to check-in, go through security and board the plane. And it would’ve done, if I’d heard my alarm. I didn’t check which setting it was on, and later found out it was playing ‘harp’ music which, was probably lulling me to sleep rather than waking me up! My sleep deprivation from the previous night suddenly hit me and as soon as I’d put my head on the bench, I was gone. And my harp-sounding alarm wasn’t loud enough to wake my unconscious self up. It was only after three hours of deep REM sleep, that my body roused, only to find that it was light, people are moving around, and the benches which had been taken by fellow nappers were all empty.

The moment I looked at my watch, the world came crashing down on me. It was 6 am. My flight left at 6.25. All which flashed through my mind were swear words. And I continued to curse myself as I grabbed my bag, ran up the escalator and turned up at check in desk G, to find no line of people, only three British Airways staff packing up their stuff. Shit.

In my mind, I wished this was just a nightmare and I’d wake up from it, to relive the last two hours. But I knew it wasn’t. My mind was spinning way to much for it to be a nightmare.

When the check-in staff approached me, they knew exactly who I was and the look on their faces said it all. It was too late to get on the flight. I begged, I pleaded, I waved my hands in the air looking like a crazy woman who’d just woken up, hadn’t brushed her hair and was on the brink of hysteria! What ever I did to persuade them to let me on my flight, the answer was always a calm ‘I’m sorry, but it’s too late’.

The craziness then set in. If they weren’t going to let me through, I’ll just have to get myself on that plane. I imagined running through the security gate, dodging the otherwise bored looking officers and sprinting to the boarding gate just in time to make a running leap from the air bridge to the plane door as it was pulling away! All done with the 15 kg rucksack on my back…

Instead, the BA women with their perfect hair, fresh faces and smart uniform told me to sit down and they would help me. I did as they said, hating them all the same that they wouldn’t let me on the plane that was just waiting outside. Seriously, did they have no heart? Perhaps if I’d made up a different story (not say I was sleeping) they’d let me on.

The BA woman told me my flight was non-changeable, so they couldn’t offer me another flight. Moreover, there were no more flights from Haneda to London that day, so I’d have to go to Narita, and pay for a new flight. The Virgin Atlantic flight she quoted me would be about £2500 pounds. And at that moment, I thought I wasn’t going to get home. How could I pay that amount for another flight home? Instead, I’d go back to my apartment and spend the next to weeks crying over my stupidity. But then I thought of my parents turning up at the airport and waiting for me at the arrivals gate, until the last passenger had come through, and that wasn’t me. And that actually made me cry, so I decided I was going to go home, at any cost. 

I took the one hour bus from Haneda to Narita, and phoned my parents to tell them the situation and to ask if my insurance covered it. It didn’t. More cursing. But they told me to do what I could to get home and they’d help me with money if needs be. So I decided to try to buy a flight with FinnAir, a Finnish airlines that had a flight to London via Helsinki, that day. I went to an ATM and got out the limit of yen you could, equivalent to about £1500. I’ve never pressed so many zeros when getting money out. I went to the FinnAir check in desk and waited for it to open, hoping I could buy a flight and get on the next plane.

I watched with jealously as people came to the airport, looking stylish and calm, their tickets in hand, with nothing to worry about. In comparison I looked at my reflection in a shop window. My eyes red from lack of sleep and crying. My hair limp and loose from sleeping on a bench. And there was a ramen stain on my trousers from the previous night’s meal. I decided to go clean myself up. After I’d pulled myself together, I felt a lot better, and looked less like a hysterical hobo and more like a woman on a mission. I was getting home today.

From then on, my luck took a change for the better. I was told to double-check with British Airways if they could help me at all. I didn’t hold out any hope, but went to the information desk just in case. After I’d explained my situation, I was told to wait a while. I sparked up a conversation with a friendly business man from Manchester, and he told me it’ll be alright and British Airways would help me out. I didn’t really believe him, but it turns out he was right. And to my utter astonishment, when the stewardess called me back to the counter, she spoke some magic words, “Well, we can give you a complimentary flight with Virgin Atlantic, leaving in two hours time.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I’d heard of a complimentary drink, but a complimentary flight? Does that really exist?  The Mancunian smiled at me and at the moment I could’ve hugged him and hugged the stewardess. But I didn’t, and just let the realisation of what she’d just said sink in. I was going home today. And I wouldn’t have to hand over the thick wad of yen I’d spent the last year earning.

With my new ticket in hand, I went straight to check-in, security and waited at the boarding gate in a happy, relieved, astonished mess. Fourteen hours later, my parents picked my up from Heathrow and their hugs made this whole ordeal worthwhile. I was home.




7 thoughts on “Travelling home: Part II

  1. Pingback: Shinobu : Patience |

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