Heathrow

Now, I’ve only been to London Heathrow Airport a handful of times in my life (including a few when I was between 8 and 12yrs old) but here’s my story. Learn from it what you will:

Dad’s a pilot, so until I was 22 I got great deals on travel, both domestic and international. When I accompanied my boss to New York Fashion Week, I paid for the flight myself, so I was keen to save where I could.

This ’saving’ I was led to believe would make me a happy traveler, safe in the knowledge that I was paying less for travel that was still luxurious and efficient.

My 20-yr-old budget dictated that instead of going from Auckland-LA-New York I would instead go from Auckland to LA-London, then on to New York, and reverse the route on the way back. My simple basis for this decision was that the flight from London to NYC was less than an LA-NYC flight, and seeing as dad’s discount offered me an exceptional rate all the way to London and back, I was sold.

The flight there was a breeze, and apart from the severe jet lag (which I couldn’t shake with pills as I can’t take medication that isn’t liquid or dissolves) I had a great time in New York.

However, on the way back, I had a BAD time.

I got to JFK airport with plenty of time to spare and was adamant I was about to embark on a smooth and faultless journey back to Auckland via LA. The New York to London flight was good.

In London I learned for the first time the failings of being an airline family member traveling on ’stand-by.’ This means that I don’t have a confirmed seat on a plane until it’s absolutely clear that there aren’t enough paying customers to fill the plane, and I get one of the left-over seats.

On checking in to the Air New Zealand counter in Heathrow I was told the plane to LA was overbooked. Not an uncommon problem, and I was prepared to wait.

Seeing as I was on my own the lovely staff ushered me into a little pen, where I sat with all my bags and suitcases until a seat became free on that flight.

An hour passed. Nothing.

The plane departed without me on it.

A few more hours. Nothing. I was getting tired and hungry.

Do I leave my bags and go get some food? No, it won’t be long now.

A few more hours…. nothing.

A few more planes depart. I sit inside my little pen. Nothing.

After 8 hours in my pen I make a dash for the nearest vending machine. I keep an eye on my bags the whole time and I’m feeling a little woozy from sleep deprivation.

Still nothing.

Now I’m sitting in my pen, clutching my bags, trying not to fall asleep in case a) my flight is called and I miss it, or b) some weirdo snatches my bags while I’m dozing.

Finally, after 10hrs sitting on a cold plastic seat in a little roped-off pen by myself, I’d memorised all the public announcements, flight arrival and departure noises, familiarised myself with all the staff’s faces, even learned a few names, and turned into a sleep-deprived maniac, I was guided onto an Air New Zealand flight bound for LA.

Let it be known that this is not a comment on the pitfalls of anyone or any airline, but the simple misgivings of modern-day air travel, with all its affordable popularity, coupled with a young guy on a budget and no air points.