As a frequent traveller I do come and go a lot (I’m a member of a pretty cultured club dontchya know). But I’ve never actually missed an international flight before, even though I’ve often deserved to. Let’s just say I’ve always had good flight karma. But today it changed its colours on me.
Just as the only place I’ve been the victim of crime is South London, not Soweto, NW1 not Nicaragua, by George of all the exotic and dramatic factors which could conspire to make me finally miss a plane, it was something as pedestrian as a hapless Network Rail employee burning their Hovis that finally did me in.
But Carrie Bradshaw-style I got to thinking of all the near misses I’ve had, and what better stories they actually make than a drizzly grey morning struggling with shrugging staff at St Pancras, and gridlock on London’s roads.
Here are my top 3 flight fiascoes – and today jumps right in at Number 1: