The 'Polar Vortex' Voyage

Travelling is a rather strange experience if you think about it.  You become part of a bubble.  The real world and your real life pause.  The only people you communicate with are total strangers.  Your focus and ambition in life is getting from one place to the other.  Something that can be to next to impossible as I found out this week.  A journey that only has to take 7 or 8 hours was enhanced, embellished and elongated until it was actually 72 hours later that the final destination became a reality rather than a far off dream. 

Airport.  A word I now hate. Along with border control (having been through it practically a hundred times), baggage (having lost mine somewhere in the ‘polar vortex’), boarding pass (having racked up an impressive collection of now just empty promises) and the dreaded word of ‘delayed’ highlighted red on the board (you know that hour by hour the delay time will increase until suddenly, ‘cancelled’ flashes up.  Hope once more crushed into the frozen ground that is currently North America). 

72 hours ago I was rather excited to be returning to the land of snow and ice.  That excitement has evolved into frustration, anger, tears to pure numbness.  That 24 hour wait I had for my journey home at Christmas was nothing compared to four airports, two nights stranded in cities which weren’t even on my original journey plan, sitting on planes multiple times waiting to leave to be told we have to return to the terminal once more.  It’s the expectation that this time shall be the time we get lift off.  Everyone has their own horror story.  Though not going to lie, I did have to bite my tongue multiple times when I heard people complaining about having been waiting in the airport for 12 hours.  That, my friend, is nothing.  Trust me and the guy on his way back from Malaysia.  Though one plus is that unlike not wanting to miss Christmas two weeks ago, the only thing I’m missing is introductory lectures which I probably would have skived anyway.  And it does slightly put life into perspective.  All I really suffered were uncomfortable seats, a lack of sleep and a touch of mental anguish.  Nothing if you really think about it.

I’ve met a range of people along the way.  You’ve got those bitching about every little thing, trying to place the blame on anything and everything.  All they are doing is making everyone else around them more pissed off than they were before.  Helpful.  Then there are those who take out their anger and frustration on the nearest person wearing a uniform.  Because they were obviously the person who chose to shut down the whole of Toronto airport right and personally caused you to be stuck on the ground, right? Sure. There’s the teenage girl sat in the corner with tear stained cheeks.  The parents trying to entertain two 5 year old girls for hours upon end, drawing other passengers into the mix (impressive job indeed).  The restaurant manager, just glancing at my face and its expression, giving me a free drink of coke even though I didn’t have enough money. The woman with her pet dog which had the power only animals and babies hold to put a smile on people’s faces which were ones of thunder just moments before.  Then those to whom you say a random comment to or ask a question about which gate to be at and suddenly you’re just chatting away like you’ve known them for years.  They are the people who help you forget that you’re on your own and life is pretty crap and just dull dull dull. 

My holiday at home is a distant memory.  Even English accents are already foreign to me.  I feel like I should have done something momentous during this epic ‘adventure’.  Rather I’ve just read over about a thousand pages of Games of Thrones and literally just sat.  

And all of this sounding like I’m actually home.  Oh no. Abandoned the airport after losing all hope in the air by means of transport after 24 hours of 5 cancelled flights to go back to basics: four wheels on the ground.  Good old Greyhound.  Only 5 hours of icy road separating me from my bed.  Though this is me however, so I’m expecting the bus to not arrive/break down half way in the snow/or simply look at me and decide not to take me as I’ll surely bring a curse upon the journey.

Nevertheless, I refuse to think that this disgraceful start to the term is a sign of things to come.  It better not be anyway...