Homeward bound.

Oh the joy of international flights. Like picking dates from a bowl, you know it is only a matter of time before you get a bad one! No matter whom you choose to fly with and at what class, you know a stinker is only just around the corner.

I feel - with some justification - that I had got mine out of the way last year. I had the one where the last 30 minutes were spent covered in Silas’ pooh and who can forget the one where were we sat on the plane for 6 hours before taking off, with a tourettes suffering girl behind me telling anyone that would listen that all Indian’s stink, I was a fat bastard and the flight attendant, “needed to shut his mouth because everyone on the plane knows he is just a shit stabber”!

It was knowing I had got these recent horrors under my belt that I felt rather smug and pleased with myself as I headed to IGI for my latest flight back to 'Blighty'. This time it was going to be plain sailing. No baby crawling all over me, no pooh, no delays and no hastle. Just myself, Rafa and 2 Virgin Upper class seats, Nine and a half hours uninterrupted cartoons for Rafa and nine and half hours uninterrupted wine and cheese for me.

How wrong could I be?

The 4 week winter seems to have run its course in Delhi and as we headed to the airport it was shorts and sunglasses weather. Unfortunately the Delhi airport authorities opinion differed. Still believing the Indian myth that anything below 20 degrees is likely to cause hypothermia, they have the heating in the airport cranked up to 11! This, one assumes, is just to show off the fact they do actually have heating that works. When they get a chance to prove it, boy are they going to.

By the time I was through check in I was sweating spinal fluid. I looked like an extra in Ice Cold in Alice and felt a little faint. Rafa’s cheeks looked like 2 pieces of rare beef and all around me people were wilting. The fact that I was marched past the hoards of sweaty travelers to the front of the queue at emigration added to my scarlet complexion.

Safely through the proletariat, we made it to the sanctuary of the lounge. At last, a sit down in the a/c and a cold beer to re-hydrate. No such luck, the lounge was hotter than the seventh level of hell and completely packed while the beer was warm!

Due to fog and numerous cancelled flights Delhi airport was in meltdown. There were too many people, little organization and a huge amount of impatience. It was while queuing to get through security I finally blew!

I exploded! The recipients of my spleen venting were two Indian gentlemen who decided that unlike the rest of us, they were special and really didn’t have to queue. Cutting through the ropes to a position several in front of me, tipped me over the edge and turned me into Basil Fawlty.

Expletives tumbled forth in a spitting torrent of rage. ‘How dare you’, ‘who do you think you are’ and ‘you pair of ignorant rude tossers, get to the back of the queue’ were of the more printable. I was so angry I was actually shaking and more than happy to take him and his several mates on. Sensing my rage and seeing a 6’6” gorah foaming at the mouth and shaking with rage was enough to do the trick.

Tails between their legs and with a little goading from their friends who clearly didn’t want to be seen to be condoning such behaviour, they shuffled to the back of the queue. A small round of applause ensued from my fellow passengers and for a brief second I felt quite proud of myself. The peoples champion, the defender of all that is civilized and righteous, the……… father of a 4 year old who’s just completely lost the plot in front of him and now feels slightly embarrassed!

Having got my Basil out the way we headed for the plane and found that due to the lack of quality at security the Captain had ordered everyone to be searched again! Eventually we took off 2 hours late and my run of bad flights continued. When will it end? Not on the return leg that is for sure. That was spent wandering around the plane trying not to wake people up with a wide awake baby. Oh the joys of parenting!

It was all worth it in the end though. Catching up with the conde's was as much fun as ever and my super-mum now has less than a week till her treatment ends. It seems to have gone by so fast and it will be such a relief when it is finally over. My moaning about flights sometimes needs to be put into perspective I think!