I’m away for work at the moment, I’m actually in Dubai – which is very cool, and I’ve come out a few times this year. And every time I travel I get really excited about the flight. Even with the knowledge that, after having your testicles removed with a rusty spoon, actually getting on a plane is the most painful and frustrating experiences in life.

It doesn’t help that regardless of how I plot, plan and organise merely arriving at the airport I still manage to cock it up somewhere. I have had to cope with forgetting that the M25 is occasionally a *bit* busy – that time I checked in with merely minutes to rush through security and leg it to the plane; I’ve stuck the car in a ditch on the way, had to get a friend to tow me out and I checked in with merely minutes to rush through security (got picked out for a random search this time) and leg it to the plane; then there was the time I thought the plan took off at 9:30 and it took off at 9 – see above…..

This time I had the brain wave that I’d get the train to London and the blue line on the tube over to Heathrow.  In retrospect the previous sentence seems to sum up quite clearly what my mistake was this time. Which wasn’t helped by some poor bloke fainting on the tube ,requiring that the train was stopped in a station for 1/2 an hour. That little episode clearly sums up my opinion of London, the guy had fainted, keeled over, bashed up his nose, cut his head and NO ONE offered him a seat, and all of us (I have to include myself) stood around tutting and looking at our watches while the poor sod tried to work out where and who he was as he came round.

Anyway – mindful of my previous mistakes I’d given myself loads of time so I didn’t have to worry too much. Got to the airport finally and went to check in. I was quite interested as Virgin had sent me an email letting me know that they had a new check-in system which promised to make the whole process much easier. Cool. I walked into the check-in area.

Chaos! There were people everywhere – sorry – extremely stressed people everywhere. Basically the new system involved everyone checking themselves in and then dropping off their bags. In theory, great, in practice…. The main problem is that people where required to weigh their bags them selves and were trusted to fess up if they were overweight. Yeah – right. Trust had broken down by the time I got there and really pissed off Virgin staff were marching up and down the lines singling people out, “Is that bag 23kilos? Is that bag 23kilos? It doesn’t look like 23kilos, does it? You need two trolleys for it!” I don’t know what happened to that chap. Didn’t see him again, he was probably taken out the back and shot.

I was teachers pet, I’d already checked in online and had a little bag so actually got through this bit quite quickly as people in the queue in front of me were culled for being overweight by the various Virgin staff. (Not actually overweight, their bags were overweight – if that was the criteria, I’d still be in Blighty, waiting for a boat barge, to get me out here)  So the system worked for me.

My fastest check-in and journey to security ever!  At this rate I was going to have time for a beer and buy a book that I’d never read at any other time than when on a plane – something by Andy McNab no doubt.  Even the long queues for security were moving through well, terrific.  Weighing up the people ahead of me I could see the only problem was a family with a pram, who after a little eavesdropping, I ascertained they had no idea how to fold up the pram.  Armed with this information I peeled off to follow the sensibly dressed business man, who’d obviously been through the process before.  I thought.  First off he put his bag into the machine.  It was sent back as he’d forgotten to take his laptop out.  Computer problem fixed he walked through the gate that goes beep.  It went beep.  He was asked if he had any metal on him.  Offering his glasses he tried again with them off.  It went beep.  He checked his pocket and pulled out about twenty quids worth of shrapnel and went through again.  Beep – I noticed the family had smoothly collapsed the pram and were strolling off into duty free.  Beep.  Now he remembered he had a mobile phone.  Beep.  Finally a penknife.  At this point we were ushered through past him, never saw that bloke again either.

Then I checked the time, sighed and legged it to the gate.

I love flying…..