March 22.
So, Oxford was a blast. Before I'll tell you of our lovely stay, I'll tell you how it ended.
Mini-me and I had to get up super freaking early (4:45am-ish) on friday, took a shower, had a coffee and were walked to the bus station in the dark cold by our wonderful host, Lily. We took the coach to Heathrow, nibbling away a few times and getting excited to get back home. We were early at the airport because there had been less traffic than expected, so I took our bag to the check-in and placed our passports on the counter.
Only one of us was awake at 4:45 that morning.
Freezing at the bus station.
On the coach to Heathrow.
The lady scanned them, typed a bit, looked at us, typed again, looked at us again, asked me where we were flying, typed again, looked at us again and finally said she couldn't find us in the system. I said "Huh!" - and told her I had been trying to check-in online all night but hadn't been able to, but that I was 100% sure we were on the 9:05 flight, with Lufthansa, and from Heathrow, and to Berlin. She said "right...", and sent me to talk to her colleagues at the ticket counter. What felt like hours later, I heard a guy say to us "Sorry honey, but it looks as if you've booked for the 22nd of March, not February".
Uhm. I did... what?!
So exhausted, but we didn't know just yet what was going to happen to us.
I was about to burst out in tears, swallowed and asked what I should do now. I had two options:
1) Stay in Heathrow forever and marry the guy behind the counter.
2) Pay £305 to change the booking.
I thought for a second, sobbed, and decided to do none of the two. I booked a new flight (no, that's a lie, my boyfriend did from Berlin, thank you, N.), which still cost a ridiculous fortune, but at least I had hope to get home eventually.
That day truly sucked. I, super-tired and actually zombie-like, mini-me in the carrier, super-tired and contiously getting more and more winy, feeling my stress and my frustration and getting even more winy because of that...
EXHAUSTION.
In the early hours, when I was still optimistic, I bought myself some food, checked in my bags, took walks around ugly terminal 1, snapped some photos, diapered, fed, bought something to drink, bought some candy, let mini-me play on a blanket in a corner of the food court... when I was done with all this, about 36 minutes had gone by. Too bad my flight went five hours later. At least I thought so. Because there was quite a delay as well.
I didn't know this when I realized I had checked in the remaining diapers, and mini-me decided to pee a LOT that day. So YES, let's buy Pampers for £10 in the airport pharmacy. Yay! At some point, the aiport decided to turn off all heating in Heathrow's bathrooms, so yes, we froze during all those diaper changes, we did.
He learned to grab his feet that day... (and I had to sensor him down there).
Somehow - I don't remember how - we made it back to Berlin by early evening. Not sure who was more exhausted after mini-me also decided to try out his screaming voice on the flight... for 45 minutes. Before he - thank GOD! - fell asleep. Poor little him. I thought we were doing just a tiny hop over the Ärmelkanal, it ended up as a whole day of stress and frustration.
Finally on the plane.
Departure, 45 minutes (plus five hours) late.
Bye bye, Heathrow!
Up in the air.
Landing.
Good thing I'm such a good surpresser. I've already gotten over it all. Let's go to India on wednesday!
Well, hi Berlin.
Argh.
PS: If anyone needs a flight from Heathrow to Berlin on March 22, believe me, I've got one. Just let me know.
Mini-me and I had to get up super freaking early (4:45am-ish) on friday, took a shower, had a coffee and were walked to the bus station in the dark cold by our wonderful host, Lily. We took the coach to Heathrow, nibbling away a few times and getting excited to get back home. We were early at the airport because there had been less traffic than expected, so I took our bag to the check-in and placed our passports on the counter.
Only one of us was awake at 4:45 that morning.
Freezing at the bus station.
On the coach to Heathrow.
The lady scanned them, typed a bit, looked at us, typed again, looked at us again, asked me where we were flying, typed again, looked at us again and finally said she couldn't find us in the system. I said "Huh!" - and told her I had been trying to check-in online all night but hadn't been able to, but that I was 100% sure we were on the 9:05 flight, with Lufthansa, and from Heathrow, and to Berlin. She said "right...", and sent me to talk to her colleagues at the ticket counter. What felt like hours later, I heard a guy say to us "Sorry honey, but it looks as if you've booked for the 22nd of March, not February".
Uhm. I did... what?!
So exhausted, but we didn't know just yet what was going to happen to us.
I was about to burst out in tears, swallowed and asked what I should do now. I had two options:
1) Stay in Heathrow forever and marry the guy behind the counter.
2) Pay £305 to change the booking.
I thought for a second, sobbed, and decided to do none of the two. I booked a new flight (no, that's a lie, my boyfriend did from Berlin, thank you, N.), which still cost a ridiculous fortune, but at least I had hope to get home eventually.
That day truly sucked. I, super-tired and actually zombie-like, mini-me in the carrier, super-tired and contiously getting more and more winy, feeling my stress and my frustration and getting even more winy because of that...
EXHAUSTION.
In the early hours, when I was still optimistic, I bought myself some food, checked in my bags, took walks around ugly terminal 1, snapped some photos, diapered, fed, bought something to drink, bought some candy, let mini-me play on a blanket in a corner of the food court... when I was done with all this, about 36 minutes had gone by. Too bad my flight went five hours later. At least I thought so. Because there was quite a delay as well.
I didn't know this when I realized I had checked in the remaining diapers, and mini-me decided to pee a LOT that day. So YES, let's buy Pampers for £10 in the airport pharmacy. Yay! At some point, the aiport decided to turn off all heating in Heathrow's bathrooms, so yes, we froze during all those diaper changes, we did.
He learned to grab his feet that day... (and I had to sensor him down there).
Somehow - I don't remember how - we made it back to Berlin by early evening. Not sure who was more exhausted after mini-me also decided to try out his screaming voice on the flight... for 45 minutes. Before he - thank GOD! - fell asleep. Poor little him. I thought we were doing just a tiny hop over the Ärmelkanal, it ended up as a whole day of stress and frustration.
Finally on the plane.
Departure, 45 minutes (plus five hours) late.
Bye bye, Heathrow!
Up in the air.
Landing.
Good thing I'm such a good surpresser. I've already gotten over it all. Let's go to India on wednesday!
Well, hi Berlin.
Argh.
PS: If anyone needs a flight from Heathrow to Berlin on March 22, believe me, I've got one. Just let me know.
careaux - Sun Feb 24, 21:37
