Thursday, January 12, 2006

ITT

Stands for: International Travel Trauma.

Something I suffered yesterday...got to work at 8 am. Worked until 12. Got the work bus to Temple Meads station. Caught the train to Birmingham. Got delayed by 30 minutes. Not too bad so far. Rushed across Birmingham to the airport (on another 2 trains, well one train and a "shuttle"). I now have 1 hour hanging around, with very little money. I bought a book....Just as well.

Flight supposed to leave at 17:20. At 17:00 they announced "More information at 17:20"....17:20 comes and goes. No info. 17:40's announcement is "Delayed". Flight finally leaves at 18:30. This is bad news (but not a disaster) as I have another 2 hours to get to the hotel once in Lyon.

Get to Lyon. It's foggy. And I mean FOGGY!!! Visibility is about 1 metre...bear in mind at this point that I have 0 Euro (that's Zero!)...and about 16 quid left on my credit card. Managed, by the skin of my teeth (and some judicious lying while pretending not to speak French), to get the last bus from the airport to Lyon. But what's this?.....where the hell am I going once I get there....where in the name of god is the hotel compared to the station?

Quick phone call to M&D resulted in minor confusion as my map was th other way round to the world...It was helpfully printed upside down! It's now about 22:00 (french time, 21:00 GMT)...the tram station is closing.....get the final tram back across the river for one stop....ask a passing p!sshead "Ou est rue de Marseille"...get some unintelligible response involving various grunts and the phrase "tabac"....in the distance I can see a Tabac....I head towards it.

GOAL! Rue de Marseille.....a few minutes later and I finally get to my hotel.

Wew.

I am not doing this again :)


I was yawning too babe!

1 comment:

Mole Eye said...

Good story Guri - keep em comin.

I am of the home today - electro was over ripping up floors and smashing things in Nick the Knife's room. Need to buy a doorbell online - if you find any good ones link me up.

Seems my trade curse is getting more twisted: past the shitty-trousered plumber - to the plumber with a neck op more severe than yours (scar from ear to shoulder), past the brown piss and bloody semen, past the pus-filled testicles to the hanged good mate found on Sunday. Poor bloke. Still. Bad luck she a comes in the threes I said.

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