Going Home

So I couldn’t change my ticket to come home on December 16 like I was supposed to. So instead I decided to surprise my parents and not tell them that I was going to come home two days early. I was so lucky that my friend Pav offered to DRIVE me to Heathrow. 

Since Joce and I got our flat, we had to move out before we left for the holidays. So in addition to worrying about my last school project, I had to pack to come home and also pack my entire London life (thanks to Priyanka for letting us store our stuff in your room). I got everything done and Pav got me to the airport in record time. 

I was able to check in right away and my baggage wasn’t overweight. The line for security was long, but it moved fast. I made it to my gate in plenty of time and there was even internet there when I sat down. Can you tell that at this point things were going just too well for my trans-Atlantic flight?

We get on the plane, I sit next to two really great people whom I talked with throughout the flight. Still no hiccups, except I was in the middle row, middle seat - no biggie! Then it began...

Our plane was getting ready to taxi off the runway and the pilot comes on the overcom and says that we have been flagged by TSA, we’ll have to return to the terminal! Well, I’ve already taken my sleeping medicine and snuggled in, I can’t concentrate too much on this, but as an American leaving Heathrow to Chicago, I’m a bit concerned to say the least. So three TSA officials come walk around the plane. I’m sure they’re going to escort someone off for some hideous terrorist plot, but no, they simply walk around and delay our plane an hour and a half. 

So my two hour layover in Chicago just got killed and I’m now going to miss my flight. There is no way that I’m getting on American soil, two and a half hours from home and not getting there. So during the flight I’m pretty convinced that I’m going to have to figure out how to drive home from Chicago (don’t know how to get from the airport to I-65). 

I get off the plane and the American Airlines woman I talk to hands me my new ticket for my 10:20 p.m. flight! I cried I was so happy...then I waited 30 minutes for my luggage. It was 9:30 before I could try to go recheck my baggage and get on my connecting flight.

I get to check-in area and tell the woman that I’m about to miss my flight. When I tell her my flight, she asks me to wait while she sees if it’s CANCELLED. I almost lost my mind. After she gets her life in order, she tells me that the flight is on time, but that I needed to be there 45 minutes before the flight to check my luggage! I lost it at that point. I started crying and tell them that it wasn’t possible, I wasn’t staying in a hotel, I was getting on the flight - I was 35 minutes early for the damn thing, just let me on! 

Some other woman takes pity on my and hands me to George - the best - who can break the rules. George is annoyed, but checks me in...but, my luggage is now over weight for a domestic flight. As I go to pull my extra carryon out of my luggage (a total of 20 seconds to relieve the weight problem), George tells me that he’s in a hurry. I’m totally upset now. So to blow off some tension, I got through security. Of course, I’m flagged to be searched. I’m hysterical at this point, but I get released. I run through the airport, crying and cursing the terrorists who just got my liquid face soap taken from me since it was over 100ml. When I arrive at the gate, the nicest guy says, “I hope you weren’t running, you had plenty of time.”  I’m no longer involved. I can’t take it.

We wait on the plane for about 20 minutes for my other Heathrow companions to make the flight (clearly I didn’t get the memo) and then I get home to Indy, rent a car and drive to Fishers. It was 2 a.m. by this point as I snuck in the house. My parents loved having my shadow standing in their room in the middle of the night two days earlier than I was supposed to - oh well, I’m so glad to be home!