Getting back on the Norse C Difficile
When the guy next to me was having a debrief phone call, I'm sure he mentioned someone I know. But I didn't query him on it.
I was having conflicting thoughts about whether to have any booze or not, since it's both a school night and holiday. In the end I gave in to temptation, which sucked arse because bizarrely I was tempted by Amstel Light and it's fucking disgusting. Honestly it was mostly to get yet another airport checkin on Untappd. I mean really.
Bad beer was followed by bad news. Not only was my day not going to be made, and a couple of hundred other people's ruined, by the Bergen flight(s) being cancelled but no, it was on time and departing from satellite C. Fucking hell! Even the monorail pisses me off now, I'm so full of dislike for departing from somewhere other than the main T5 terminal. Bah. C doesn't even have a lounge!
It's also miles away, taking 20 minutes and you need to be at the gate 20 minutes before take-off so meh, I begrudgingly made my way there. And, of course, I was at the gate way too bloody early. Took a look at the glorious sights of other BA birds littering the gates. This weather sucks.
My plane.
And a big fuck-off A380 to either San Francisco or LA. I know which I'd rather be getting on.
Eventually boarding started and I took my seat in 3F. The crew were super-welcoming and friendly and I had the whole row to myself, which was a result because row 1 was full and row 2 half full. We seem to be fully boarded about 15 minutes before our scheduled departure time, but then they announce for two passengers to make themselves known to the crew. No-one responds. Eventually about 10 minutes later 2 people arrive, not looking particularly hurried, and sit in row 2 in front of me. And then they're shouted at to not bloody sit in business class, but get back to their own seats. Pretty brazen attempt to self-upgrade, bravo!
All that chaos took place while the introduction from the flight deck was coming over the tannoy so I could hear barely anything. Presumably what he was saying was, it's going to take us fucking forever to taxi out to the runway in a long queue of planes and when we're doing so we'll feel some really harsh crosswinds fling us about a bit while we're still on the ground, and then once we take off we'll take a proper battering from even stronger wind and it'll be a really fun ride as we try and get out of Imogen's way. And the reason I presume he was saying that is because it took us fucking forever to taxi out and ....
Once airborne, the standard BA Club Europe service commenced: hot towel, pre-food drink, plate of ropey sandwiches but nice scones, offer of tea and coffee which I reply to by asking for champagne.
The flight attendant was very keen to hear my opinion on the champagne as BA have changed it recently, and she's been canvassing people. I say I had some last week and wouldn't have asked for it again if I didn't like it! She's pleased with this. Out of the window I see the contrails of two other planes who seemingly were engaged in some kind of Red Bull air race daredevil shenanigans.
Once the food gets packed away, and the sun sets on the other side of the plane, I do fuck all but learn some more Spanish. Soy de Inglaterra, y claro que hablo ingles. Hablo un poco de espanol. Can't work out how to type accented characters here, but you get the gist. Some Spanish is really hard.
We land pretty much on time and on my way out I tell Sharon that I'll see her again in a few minutes because I'm coming back too. Boarding starts within about 20 minutes of us having first touched down, and I'm about 5th on the airbridge, which I soon think is going to collapse because everyone's on it and we're not actually allowed on the plane yet since it's not ready for us. D'oh.
The BA app had said we were going to leave on time but arrive an hour late, but the first officer tells us the flight time is normal. How can that be? Oh, because we're not going to fucking take off for an hour, that's why. Gah! So I'm stuck with this view as we sit on the Tarmac.
Bergen has been pretty cursed on this trip; I think next time there's a sale on from Norway I'll go to Stavanger instead. Anyway, we have actually asked for permission to take off sooner - I should hope so too; it's not explained how on earth we didn't have permission to take off at our scheduled departure time anyway - and news comes that we may well do so at 7.25pm local time. But given I'm typing this very sentence at 7.30pm while we're still at the gate that seems unlikely. Oh, but now we're pushing back. C'mon BA, take me home.
Eventually we're in the air. Business class is a variable size cabin on these planes, they can modify the seats and shift a curtain based on how many rows there should be. On the way out there were 3 rows, and now there are 4. No-one is seated in row 4, however, so I'm fucked if I know why they've done that.
All power is now draining. My phone's under 40%, iPad under 30% and USB brick somewhere in the 30s too. Also I'm fucked. Cabin pressurisation always makes me tired, but my abject exhaustion has predictably put me in hallucinatory mode, those mini sleeps which cause instant, realistic, bizarre dreams. We're not talking overnight-train-in-Bulgaria-in-2013 standard, but pretty close. (I'm aware this reference will be lost on basically everyone)
Drinks service starts much quicker on this leg. Back in September, the food was much nicer on way towards rather than from Heathrow, so I'm keen to see if that'll be the case again today. While waiting I start watching The Great Gangster Film Fraud, and despite my newfound hatred of Steve Jobs I am really in love with picture in picture on the iPad.
Has anybody invented translucent micro suction pads for phones, I wonder? I really want one. I've got a black one which lets me attach my phone to the wall, which is great, but I'm thinking that a translucent one would let me attach the camera to a window - say, a plane window - for some epic time lapse opportunity.
The food was much better, again. No choice offered, but it was the king prawn thing same as last week, with a bunch of cheese and some more cheese and two more bottles of champagne. Really enjoying the film too, plus I've just taught yet another member of BA cabin crew on the wonders of starting a long business class trip in Norway to save mucho dineros. Not that I let on about the mistake - no real need to go there, since it's still a huge saving most of the year round anyway.
The moving map says we're just turning to face the Thames Estuary. About 35 minutes until we land I think. It's dark, quiet, late, a Monday, I've got work tomorrow. Clearly I've decided that holidays - or at least, planes and lounges - trump school nights, and I'm not unhappy about that. But I do know that as of tomorrow I'm back on the Withings, the salads for lunch, the Moov cardio boxing, the MyFitnessPal, and one of these fucking days I'll manage to get over whatever mental hump has caused me to not go for a run for 2 months. Maybe I'll do parkrun on Saturday?
It's pretty obvious what the rest of the flight was like. London looks great, and iPhones take terrible night time shots through plane windows.
We landed at half eight and once again was at the satellite. I chose the walkway rather than suffer the bleeding monorail again, and was the only person other than staff doing so. The border oyster gates recognised me as the same person I was a few hours ago, and now I'm sitting near the Piccadilly line station, outside M&S, writing this because I want to finish it before I get a couple of buses home and fall asleep. Tomorrow, I might not even leave the house.