I showed up at 7.20am this morning at the airport just to sit down and waste eight hours of my day reading the departures screen. No luck, my flight was cancelled. That is of course because nobody can handle the snow and mostly because this end of year is cursed. Fucking rotten.
People had been queuing for ten hours already when I arrived at the Air France desk so I thought I would go home and re-book a flight online. That was only after being told by an hostess that all the foreigners had priority over UK residents and that they had already re-booked all flights until the 24th. The lovely woman also reassured me with some wise advice:
- "You can always re-book a flight in January"
- "Well, January ain't the fucking same, is it? Because Christmas 2010 ain't happening in bloody January, ya bitch!" Seriously...
Needless to say that on my way back I did not give a smile to anyone that crossed my path. If anybody had talked to me or -God forbid, annoyed me, I swear I would have bitten.
I am now at home, checking the sky high prices of the next days' flights. I don't care. Daddy better pay for that. I WILL BE going home for Christmas. Nothing will stop me.
Now. I need a few things. First, chocolate. Then probably a warm room, a fleece blanket, a good movie... If that is achieved, then I will have already managed to calm down a notch.
Also, friends would be handy. But turns out almost everybody's gone home. Lucky bastards.
Oh and if I cannot reach home before Christmas Eve then wherever it is that I find myself, I will buy Champagne. The champagne will be flowing because god knows that getting drunk on champagne makes you momentarily feel all warm and happy inside. So that's my plan B.
Before that, works awaits tomorrow. I have re-taken the shift... Since it seems I'm not quite on holidays yet.