It all started when we went to bed at around 11.30pm on
Tuesday night. I set my alarm on my phone for 5am so that we would have
sufficient time to catch our 8.30am flight from Paris to Toulouse. Having
missed a flight in the past by seconds will scare anyone into being over
prepared, so we figured that we would give ourselves plenty of time.
The plan was to wake up, finish packing our bags, and tidy
up our apartment slightly (empty the fridge, take the rubbish out, put the
dishes away, etc). Then we were going to walk two blocks to a metro station and
catch the train to a station that was about five stops away.
From there, we would catch the bus that would take us to the Paris Orly airport. All up, the transit would take about an hour, giving us plenty of time to check in early and have some breakfast while waiting at the airport.
From there, we would catch the bus that would take us to the Paris Orly airport. All up, the transit would take about an hour, giving us plenty of time to check in early and have some breakfast while waiting at the airport.
A sound plan, we both thought. But what we didn't count on
was me unconsciously turning off the alarm when it went off at 5am. At least,
that's what we think we happened. Without a backup alarm, the next couple of
hours went a little bit like this...
7.30am - I awake on my own and wonder how much precious
sleep time I have left before I will be rudely woken by the alarm. Turns out, I
had already stolen an extra hour and a half! I sit up with a fright and
literally push Marty out of bed while yelling "GET UP! IT'S 7.30!"
7.31am - We madly dash around the apartment, putting on any
clothes we find and cramming the rest into our bags. As we jump around the room
trying to pull our jeans on we interrogate each other about how this happened
and what are we going to do?!
7.33am - I think perhaps we can check in online, and while
Marty finishes packing and takes out the rubbish (the fridge and dishes didn't
even factor in our concern), I got online and tried to figure out the system to
check in. This may have worked if we'd had a printer to print our tickets, and
if online check in hadn't closed at 6.30am. No, we would have to do it the old fashioned way; just a lot faster!
7.35am - As we ran out the door, I suggested a taxi and ran
out to the street to find one as Marty locked up the apartment and left the key
as instructed. There were no taxis in sight; actually there wasn't much of
anything in sight at this time, apart from bakery delivery vans.
7.36am - Still in darkness, we run in the direction of the
metro station, but found a taxi sitting in a quiet side street. I approached
and asked the driver, who was texting on her phone, if she could take us to the
airport. She agreed as we were climbing into the back seat. Precious seconds
were wasted as she insisted that Marty put our bags into the boot.
7.37am - We were on our way to the airport, sitting in
stressed silence. After observing so much crazy traffic in France, we happened
to find the slowest, most cautious taxi driver in all of Paris! When the driver
asks if the terminal is Orly East, I confirmed and asked how long the trip
would take, making it clear that we were in a hurry as our plane was scheduled
to leave at 8.30am. After advising that the trip would take about 20 minutes,
the driver said that we had plenty of time. Somehow, that wasn't reassuring.
7.58am - We arrived at the terminal with our doors open
before the taxi came to a stop. Marty leapt out and reached for our bags as I
threw enough money in the driver's direction. We ran inside the terminal,
following signage down the stairs to the check in area for our airline. No
other passengers were in sight as we ran toward the staff behind the desk.
8.00am - Looking desperate, we advised our destination of
Toulouse, to which we received the response: "Oh I'm sorry, that flight
has closed." Our hearts sank as I put our passports on the desk to take a
brief breath. Another staff member took our passports and started typing away
on the computer, asking for our booking confirmation number. I scrambled to
find it as we were told they would allow us on, but we could only take carry-on
luggage, no check in. What a relief!
8.03am - The staff advised us to run to the gate, as it was
closing shortly, and pointed us in the right direction. We were again running
through the airport, and as we approached the security screening area, our
tickets were scanned by a staff member of our airline. We joined the end of the
long security line, breathing a sigh of relief. Surely this was it; we had made
it for our flight.
8.07am - We waited in line, debating if we should ask to be
put to the front or just sit tight and wait our turn. Our flight was surely
boarding by now, but we could see gates for our airline ahead, so felt that
surely others in line were on our flight also.
8.14am - Our bags are pulled back through the x-ray scanner,
and I am told I have liquid in my bag. I deny that I do as my bag is opened and
the contents searched. My two weeks worth of clothing was in a small carry-on
suitcase, and was now on display for all to see. We go back and forth as they
demand that I take the liquid out, while I deny that I have anything.
8.16am - It occurs to me that they may have mistaken bags
and it could be Marty's aerosol
deodorant can that he hadn't taken out of his bag. I ask him, as he is waiting
at the other end having cleared security, and yes, he had in fact forgotten to
take it out. I pull the can from his bag as it is taken and disposed of, and
both our bags go back through the x-ray.
8.18am - We are cleared through security and proceed to walk
toward our gate. As we turn a corner into a corridor, a lady's head appears
from behind a pillar and she yells: "Toulouse?". We nod, and she
motions for us to hurry toward her.
8.19am - As we approach the gate, the four staff behind the
counter give us a look as if say "where have you been?". We are told
that we are the last passengers, and only just made it.
8.22am - We are sitting on the full plane, still feeling anxious, unable to comprehend what we had just been through. Did we just do
this? Did we make it on the plane less than an hour after waking up? We look at
each other in disbelief. I say to Marty: "if we were in Australia, there
is no way they would check us in after they had closed the flight." We sit
back, trying to relax.
8.25am - A voice comes over the intercom and advises that a
bag has been left at the door of the plane, and if it belongs to a passenger,
they should come forward and claim it. Another crew member holds the small
suitcase up high for all to see as they walk through the cabin. Marty and I
again look at each other and say: "how are we all still sitting on this
plane? If we were in Australia we would have been ushered off while the bomb
squad comes in to clear the bag." But here we were, sitting on a plane in France as the crew carry an unidentified bag, that had been left at the front door, through the cabin.
8.27am - The bag is claimed by an elderly couple, stored in
the overhead area, and the crew is advised to prepare for takeoff. We can't
help but think, "were we supposed to miss this flight for some reason?".
8.30am - Right on schedule, the plane departs Paris and we
are told that we would be landing in Toulouse in 45 minutes. We again sit back,
trying to relax.
I spent the flight thinking about the morning that we just
had; in the space of less than an hour, we achieved what we had scheduled three-and-a-half-hours
for. If we were in Australia, it would have been impossible.
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