Oscar Thornton arrived early to the
airport. He always does. That way he can relax and get a coffee and
be first in the queue to get on the plane. It was a cool, breezy day
in early December. Snow had covered Salzburg the previous night, but
that didn't usually stop Austrian airports from functioning, so he
wasn't worried. Having checked in, he made his way to the departure
lounge. Once through security and re-dressed, he made a beeline for
the coffee bar. Coffee in hand, he scouted out a seat.
The airport was particularly busy today
so he ended up at a small table opposite a woman whose nose was deep
in her iPad, her tea neglected in front of her.
'May I?' he had ventured, indicating
the vacant seat. Her curt nod said yes.
He sat down and sighed. Today was going
to be a long day.
A full hour, three cups of coffee and
half the newspaper later, Oscar sighed again and stretched a little.
As he put his newspaper down on the table in front of him, he was
surprised to see that the woman opposite was still there, still
reading her iPad intently.
Fortunately he'd managed to seat
himself near one of the screens which shows the departure gates and
times. He turned to look at the screen, waiting for it to refresh and
show his flight. He waited again. The screen refreshed again, showing
later times, then back to earlier times, with the flights currently
about to leave at the top. When it refreshed again, a cool sweat
began to break out on Oscar's brow. He was beginning to recognise
some of the destinations, but London Gatwick wasn't one of them.
Panic began to seep into his brain. Was he here on the wrong day? At
the wrong time? Had he missed an announcement over the tannoy? The
more he stared at the screen, the more sure he was that the flight
was not there.
'Excuse me?' he said, turning back to
face the woman opposite. She didn't look up. He saw the tell-tale
white wire appearing from under her thick, red hair: she had earbuds
in. 'Excuse me?' he said again, this time gently nudging her arm. She
jumped sharply, and narrowly avoided dropping her iPad on the floor.
'I'm terribly sorry,' Oscar said
sheepishly, 'But can you check for me that your flight is on the
screen?'
'What?' she asked, as though she'd just
woken up and wasn't sure what was going on. She peered at him
suspiciously over her glasses.
'Can you check the screen there and
tell me if your flight is on it?' Oscar repeated, adding, 'It's just
that mine isn't so I want to know if I'm mistaken or if—'
Just at that moment, a voice came over
the tannoy: 'Can passengers travelling on flight BA2653 to London
Gatwick please return to check-in? That's a call for all passengers
travelling on flight BA2653 to London Gatwick to please return to
check-in.'
Oscar turned to the woman, who stared
back at him. 'What?' she said again.
'That's my flight,' Oscar explained.
'The one that was missing from the screen.'
'It's mine, too!' the woman said,
coming to her senses and standing up quickly, stuffing her iPad into
her oversized handbag whilst putting on her jacket. Oscar picked up
his belongings, didn't stop to push in his chair, and strode after her
back through security to the check-in desks.
A small crowd was forming around the
British Airways check-in. What's going on?
people were whispering. Has the flight been cancelled?
A flight attendant called the group to attention. 'I'm afraid your plane has been
redirected and has landed in Munich,' he announced. The group turned
to look at one another, murmuring.
'Munich?' said the
woman with the thick red hair, glasses and oversized handbag 'Isn't
that, like, in another country?' she asked Oscar.
'Yes, it's in
Germany,' Oscar said quickly, still listening to the attendant
explaining how they would be bussed to Munich. After the attendant
had finished, Oscar turned to the woman to find her looking like she
was trying to mentally map together Europe and work out how far
Munich and London were from Salzburg. 'Salzburg is next to the border
with Germany. Munich is about an hour and a half from here by bus.
The flight to London will be about the same as the flight from here.
Then they'll put us on a bus from Heathrow to Gatwick.' Oscar saved
her the pain of asking.
'Heathrow?' she
asked, inclining her head.
'Yes, for some
reason they're flying us to Heathrow. Terminal 5.'
'Terminal 5. Of
course.'
'Let's go and get
our suitcases,' Oscar suggested.
'OK,' the woman
replied and they followed the crowd to the baggage pick-up.
Outside,
the cool December air tickled their exposed faces. Before coming
through the doors, the woman had paused to put on a scarf and hat.
Then she and Oscar joined the queue to get on the waiting bus.
To be
continued...
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