“I’d again like to apologize to those customers who have suffered disrupted journeys or baggage delays.” Well Mr. Willie Walsh, I have just spent a day imprisoned (okay, voluntarily withheld) in my flat. I have also just finished watching ‘The Ring,’ munched three bags of salt and vinegar crisps and devoured two diet Cokes. On top of this, I have just left the protection of my covers not only because the Jerry Springer marathon finished but also because I feel obligated to comment on the fact that BA has still lost my luggage. Sometimes sorry isn’t just hard to say but hard to take.
(Image Source: Telegraph)
Only yesterday I was (embarrassingly) excited to venture through Terminal 5 at Heathrow and having been cut off from modern media for the last week I had no idea what had been going on. I was blissfully unaware of any high-flying hiccups or baggage handler bashings and with the chance to finally get my feet on ground I was all smiles. When I stepped off the inter-terminal bus I was pleased by the modern, mainly glass exterior of the building and the warm, beaming face of the bus-driver but the minute I traipsed through the sliding doors I was stunned by the sour faces staring back at me from the queues. A sea of despair blanketed the terminal space (big enough for two football fields) and I felt the tips of my mouth turn down.
Oh how I wish I had been on the same brainwave as one little old lady and carried my suitcases by hand but is it just me who can’t believe that in this day and age we still have mile-long lines and severe baggage loss. When I was five and living in Hong Kong, I remember how ridiculously exciting it was to fly but now this “crown jewel of British air-travel” has only filled me with dread (and now a mountain of junk food.) The only piece of luggage that managed to fight its way onto the conveyor belt was a Koala teddy bear. No, I’m not making this up.
The picture above was actually taken in Heathrow and I am pondering whether to put it up on my wardrobe door. Next time I am required to travel I will be folding my clothes into minute piles and ruck-sacking it across the Atlantic. For now, I can hear the opening of Friends calling for me to join in with the little clappy bit and hopefully BA will soon be on the phone, calling for me to forgive them. I said hopefully.
(Image Source: Weekly Gripe)
By Will Reid | April 1st, 2008