Travelling 101: Find the Airport....

After the slowest drive in history, (why has everyone decided to go caravanning TODAY??) I reach Bristol Airport and head away from the comfortable familiarity of my usual car park, (constant jet-setter that I am) in search of the Silver Zone car park, which is located just south of the Back of Beyond. And left a bit.

My car poses for its photo to be taken before the barrier decides it likes the look of us and lets us in. I’m supposed to park in a numbered bay, but as the number is somewhat illegible, I have to figure it out by process of elimination after studying the similarly unreadable ones nearby. Keys thrown at the lady in reception, I entrust my little VW to their mercies and board the courtesy bus which promises to deliver us to the Terminal in five minutes. Five minutes stretch to ten, as more people decide to clamber aboard, and I watch the chap in front of me doing a bizarre form of origami which he then applies to his suitcase. It promptly falls off, and I choke back a snigger in case it triggers my aching bladder........ My brazen baggage is stowed carefully in the luggage rack, but can’t restrain a little leap as the bus finally clanks into gear and we’re off.

The KLM desk is right in front of the revolving doors, but before I can check Slutty in, I am obliged to buy him a belt to prevent his innards (my not-so-smalls) being spread across Europe....... I am informed that I won’t see Slutty again until Vienna, as my bag will be transferred through Amsterdam for me. I hope. As I wave it bye-bye, my heart sinks as I remember that Mini-Marek lies within, and guilt overwhelms me. What if he goes astray in Amsterdam? Legs it to Lucerne? Buggers off to Barcelona? Will I get postcards from MM from far-flung destinations?

I journey through the airport en route to Departures, setting off the Archway of Ping big time.... A nice young lady sets about patting me down (there’s a lot of me to cover....) but fails to offer support as I teeter first on one foot, then the other while she inspects my high-heeled boots. I make a wild grab to steady myself, but manage to stay upright, apologetically disentangling my fingers from her hair before reclaiming my precious laptop and heading for my second bus ride of the day. This one is much like the first but with the addition of Eau d’Aircraft Fuel and less luggage, and halts beside the KLM Cityhopper which is unsurprisingly going to hop cities. And countries. When the doors of the bus open, the tightly packed passengers spill out onto the tarmac and swarm up the steps like rats leaving a sinking ship, but once we are all seated, I discover to my glee that I am alone in a row of five seats, and can scribble in my Moleskine without anyone peering over my shoulder.... Not that I’m paranoid or anything....

The KLM flight crew have a jolly jape, and play Cabin Crew Skittles as we taxi along the runway for takeoff. While the girls are performing their safety routine, the pilot brakes sharply, sending the trolley-dollies staggering, lifejackets akimbo and plastic smiles stretched taut, but the show must go on. And on, and on - in German and Dutch, as well as English until we run out of languages and runway, and the pilot sends us hurtling skywards while my stomach follows somewhat later.......

It catches up with the rest of me in time for the freebies handed out by the fortunately now sure-footed cabin crew - dry pastrami roll with a cup of barely drinkable coffee. Not exactly haute-cuisine, but hell - it’s free, unlike SleazyJet and BuggerAllWays who could take a leaf out of KLM’s book instead of fleecing their passengers for foul food and dire drinks..... However, just as I am getting used to this airborne extravaganza, the cabin crew race through the plane doing a high-speed garbage collection, and I rescue my half-drunk coffee in the nick of time, but regret it a moment later when the reason for their haste becomes obvious - the pilot cheerily informs us that things are about to get a little bumpy. Oh deep joy.

I feel my stomach start to rebel as we bounce through the sky, but count my blessings that I have no neighbour to witness my possible ejection of the KLM freebies. I am also pleased that I have not one, but TWO sick bags handy..... The pilot decides to put the plane into a shallow dive to fly below the bumps, but this in itself is a tad unnerving when I see the sea rushing up to meet us. I wonder in alarm if the captain is perhaps slumped unconscious over the controls, or is going to pull up just short of splashdown, just for a laugh, but no - it’s all part of the master plan, and he announces nonchalently that we will shortly be landing in Amsterdam. Those who have flown with me know that I am not a happy traveller, but I brave a peek out of the window - and immediately wish I hadn’t! I can almost feel the spray from the sea as we skim over the waves, and I swear a wingtip almost dips into the water as he banks sharply. All of a sudden, a forest of wind turbines sprout up out of the sea, and I toy with the idea of waving to the sailors aboard three vast tankers navigating around them....

Suddenly, we’re over land again - a flat landscape bisected by dykes and canals in long straight lines. I search for a ‘proper’ windmill, but they seem to have all been sent offshore. We fly in low over canals occupied by long barges and skim over a vast industrial area....... The landing comes suddenly, after an extremely wobbly approach and there is a nervous ripple of applause as we touch down! I for one can’t wait to set foot on terra firma once more....