You know those moments in life, when you just sit and think - of course this happened to me. That basically happened continuously on my journey to Australia.
It started nicely. We stopped in a nice American Diner on the 303 and ate hotdogs and drank coffee. I was nervous but excited.
We arrived at Heathrow, London at around 3pm - a nice 5 hours early because I thought I was super organised. As I got out the car, I got that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach as I realised I had forgotten my handbag. It's not quite as bad as it sounds. My passport and money were all in my hand luggage - my handbag just contained my phone charger, physio kit, and the bigger problem - my driving licence.
*Cue the airport melt down*
Normally it wouldn't really be a problem, however with a camper van rental a week away, a driving licence is quite important. Instantly my trip had started badly. I was SO annoyed with myself. I had been planning this all year, and writing packing lists for months and I still forget something so important.
Hollie - my travelling partner, arrived at about 5.30pm and as my luggage was checked in at 0.6kg below the limit - result, we said our family goodbyes (obviously a bit more crying at this point - this was actually just me. Crying. Again.) and headed into the departure lounge in the search of a new handbag.
Apparently Heathrow Terminal 4 only caters for the rich though, and my £50 budget could have potentially bought me a zip. I genuinely found a bag that was perfect, and it was priced at £49.99 and as I was heading to the counter to make a purchase I realised I would literally just be buying the keyring attached to it. (Note: Don't worry, I got a handbag in Melbourne).
As we boarded the plane, all was good. Our seats were good - well they weren't first class or anything, but good for economy. We headed off on time, and were told our flight time would be shorter than expected - excellent start.
The first journey seemed really draining. I'm not sure if this is because I was already emotionally ruined, or because we were flying at night. I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral - because at 26 years old I hadn't actually seen it. And as the tiredness kicked in, this turned into Friends episodes because I completely didn't need to concentrate on them.
I started to feel a bit weird as we landed at Abu Dhabi airport, but I put it down to tiredness - it probably was genuinely tiredness but who knows. About an hour into the flight mid-snooze I suddenly woke up with horrendous stomach ache feeling like I was about to be sick, and I was dripping with sweat (sorry for the gory deets) I headed to the back to ask the cabin crew for some water and they looked at me like I was an alien. To be fair, I had my eye mask on top of my head so my hair was sticking upright, and I possibly looked like I was melting. They gave me a huge bottle of water and told me that if I was ill they would have to 'report me to Australia'. Cool. Was I about to end up in quarantine with the dogs?
So I went back to my seat and basically died for 7 hours.
When I woke up I had somehow made a miraculous recovery (well, that's what I told the cabin crew). I ate some vanilla bread and watched Three Billboards (which was actually pretty good - disappointing ending though). I got a bit stroppy because the kids behind me were constantly crying and kicking my seat - but all was fine. Another 5 hours had passed - this time with the help of Meredith Grey, and finally we had arrived in Melbourne.
This was really great, until my brand new suitcase finally turned up broken, with a massive crack and a nice dent in it.
.......
Shout out to Etihad/Heathrow/Abu Dhabi for their top notch baggage handling.
The happy ending of this story is that when we arrived at our hotel (1 bus and a 20 min uphill walk with a 22.4kg case), 6 hours early, the guy took one look at me, and let us check in early.
I went straight to bed.
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