The formal part of my grand adventure in celebration of my 50th birthday has come to a close.
I guess the party is over?
Well, only sort of.
The trip is far from over. I still have a few days on my own before meeting up with Herb – fresh from his own grand journey to who-knows-where – on Friday night at Chantecler at The Negresco. Due to scheduling issues and Air Canada’s famous and ubiquitous itinerary changes, I needed to leave for my voyage a few days early, giving me this extra time to roam the globe. Eventually I will end up back in Nice, a city I know some, for a couple of days on my own. I will explore it more and show the French how truly masterful I am at murdering their language (which I heartily make up for by drinking plenty of their wine).
In the meantime, en route, I have had what I might label my most strange, odd, and in some ways alarming, airplane flights to date.
So there I was, set to fly from point A to B. There are several languages being bandied about, none of them English. Eventually we are ready to board. I am first through the gate and down the set of steps leading to a bus which would ferry us to our aircraft. After only two or three more passengers are let through, we are called back; before I’ve even reached the bus.
It is unclear, but the delay seems to have something to do with the heat…or some unidentified problem with the aircraft and they don’t want us to wait in an un-airconditioned bus. This never becomes clear.
An hour later boarding commences. Everything goes smoothly. We depart without incident. (The bus was blisteringly hot, the plane lovely and cool).
We land.
In the wrong city.
Not that any of us are aware of it. From the air, unless you are intimately familiar with a city, you really can’t tell one airport from another. For instance, I’d certainly know Saskatoon airport from the sky. And some others. But, even though I’ve been there several times, would I truly recognize say, Seattle airport, as we are landing? Especially if I’m not particularly watching for landmarks? Probably not. And in this particular case, absolutely not. And, from what I gathered, neither did the majority of my fellow passengers.
The plane comes to a stop. A luggage train and a passenger bus pull up. The seat belt sign goes off. We all get up and collect our stuff. The door opens. We wait. Wait. Wait.
Then, an announcement: the plane needs to be refueled and we must all return to our seats and fasten our seat belts.
In my mind, I’m thinking I have never seen this happen before. Trying for logic in an illogical situation, I begin to suspect a powerful Jet Refueler’s union at work here. I look at my watch. It is ten to eight at night. We were supposed to arrive at 6:30. Perhaps the airline was told, refuel now or the rates double if my guys have to stay after 8.
We refuel.
I hear some discontent happening at the rear of the aircraft. Flight attendants rush to settle things.
The passenger bus leaves.
Announcement comes on saying we are about to take off.
Take off?!?!?!?!?
Oh god. Flashback to the 70s. We’re being hijacked.
Once airborne a surprisingly calm announcement tells us our flying time is 25 minutes.
Uh, to where????
The attendant, who I’d fortunately earlier established a good relationship with, comes to ask me if I’d like something. I reply: “Yes, I’ll have an explanation, no ice.”
Turns out, back at Point A, due to weight and perhaps heat issues, the captain was given the choice of either leaving some passengers behind, or taking off and getting as far as Point A.5 to refuel before continuing on to Point B. He chose the latter.
What my attendant confided in me, is that although she and the rest of the cabin crew felt the captain should inform the passengers about what was happening, he decided not to.
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
She was very apologetic and sympathetic. And as sweet as it might have momentarily felt, I could not kill the messenger.
Hours later, safely in a hotel room bed robbed of a planned night out in an exciting city, I did pause to wonder whether the captain made the right decision.
If I was told that the plane I was about to get on likely did not have enough fuel to get where it was going because of blah blah blah so instead we were going to land in blah blah blah , get more gas, then continue on…how comfortable would I have felt? Would I have gotten on the plane? Would I have made a ruckus? If I did get on, would I have felt nervous and worried instead of sitting back to enjoy my meal and wine and bit of light reading? Was our captain correct in choosing to falsely purport our comfort and ease in a situation he knew to be perfectly safe in favour of our right to full disclosure and possible mutiny?
I am still puzzling that one out. Indeed, I was not a passenger who had a connection which would surely be missed or a loved one who needed to be contacted. And I dearly sympathized with the number of people who were in that position. I had merely lost a good meal and bottle of wine at a worldly dining establishment which, truth be told, I expect might come my way some other day. My motto when it comes to things like this, is that, when it comes to travel, top priority – always – is safety. We were safe. We were where we were supposed to be…eventually. After the added indignity of a lengthy wait for luggage, I had a superbly friendly cabbie, wonderful reception at the hotel, and even the two ‘good old boys’ who squeezed on to the elevator with me and my hideously massive suitcases were a surprising joy to interact with, even ever so briefly. So what had I lost? Something, that is certain. But was it worth going on any more about?
Nope.
But think about it. What would you do?
(Oh, and just one more thing. There have been some wondering about whether I am actually ever going to reveal my location while I was on The 50 Experiment journey, and when. Of course I will. Indeed I will. Thank you for the keen interest. Begging your patience, it will have to wait until after I meet up with hubby Herb on this Friday in Nice. As soon after that as possible {we’ll be leaving Nice the next morning for some time cavorting in the south of France}, I will post a final Reveal blog.) Thanks for waiting! 
