Disclaimer: I make no apology for the sheer amount of profanities in this post!
Well what a fabulous fucking start to the holiday. Red Rhiannon came out earlier than expected after an immense fuck up by the most incompetent airline on the planet. Yes, I’m talking about you fuckwits, British Airways.
I arrive promptly for my 10am flight from Edinburgh to Heathrow and head to the the bag drop. I hand the lady my passport and she asks where I’m flying to. HEATHROW I say. She tags my bag, it goes on the belt, and off I go on my merry way for my first of many alcoholic beverages. As I’m boarding my flight, I whip out my passport, only to spot the luggage tag stuck to the back page reads “London City Airport 08:50”. No no no no no. That’s not right. I question the lady at the gate who checks the system, confirms my case isn’t on the plane but that it has landed safely in London City. She shrugs her shoulders and says there’s nothing she can do for me. A number of expletives leave my mouth at this point, but at the risk of being denied entry, I quickly board the plane where I tell anyone who’ll listen how fucking useless BA are. The cabin crew are baffled and have never heard the like.
On landing I receive a call from London City who tell me they have my bag. Great, so you’ve got 4 hours to get it to Heathrow in a taxi then yeah? Errr no, we’ll do our best to get it on the next flight out though…
I head straight for the BA lost baggage desk and explain my situation. Again, they’re perplexed at how this even happened. It transpires that the checkin agent in Edinburgh only looked at my surname, saw there was a Steve Davies flying to London city, and checked me in as him! Ah yes good morning, I’m Steve Davies, yes the famous snooker player, yes that’s right travelling to city airport for a major tournament in London. Come on to fuck lady! Wake up! That’s security at its best right there folks!
The lady at the lost baggage desk tells me they’ll do their best to get my bag to Mexico but there’s no guarantees it’ll be on the next flight out. She hands me my tracking number and starts to explain the system. “I’ll stop you right there, Sandra. I’m only too familiar with your bloody tracking system, I checked it every day for 3 weeks solid when you lost my suitcase on a flight to Argentina this time last year. And fyi, I never saw that suitcase again in my life, so you’ll excuse me for not believing a word that comes out your mouth.”
Fuming, I head through security, buy some essential toiletries and a £40 basic tshirt from Reiss (there are other high end luxury brands available at Heathrow) and head to the airport lounge I’d booked. A lounge I can enjoy for only 30 minutes at this point given time wasted. Challenge fucking accepted!
While waiting to board my flight, which is 2 hours delayed (course it is, why wouldn’t it be?) I email some local newspapers in Edinburgh. For two reasons mainly. 1. I want everyone to know how incompetent BA are and 2. The papers have a better chance of a response out of BA than I do! Both papers call me within minutes of my email asking for the full story. Am I slightly mortified that my face is all over Edinburgh Live next to a woman who is appalled she was charged £15 for pumpkins? Yes. Do I give a fuck! No.
Anyway. At least I’ve got one clean pair of pants for my first day in Mexico. Let’s hope the food doesn’t upset my stomach, cause then we’ve got a real situation on our hands! Fingers crossed my case arrives tonight!
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