“It’s not fair”, tears well in Mum’s eyes. She has fallen victim to the flu going around Yamba and can’t make the trip to Brisbane to see me off at the airport. After an emotional hug I jump in the car. JK one of the boys from the Golf Club Friday night drinking team is riding shot gun with Dad to keep him company more so for the trip home. This is the start of 30 something hrs of travel to Charles Degaule air port in Paris.
After much discussion about the weather we arrive at the airport in plenty of time, not a situation I’m familiar with. After a quick feed I shake Dads hand and head down to passport control. The reality that I have turned my back on my now thriving business for 5 weeks starts to set in, so to the fact I’m actually going to see my girl in Paris. My head is whirring with excitement and in trepidation.
I settle in my seat on the plane and start to read the first pages of Kelly Slater’s Auto biography, it was about page ten when I ask the girl sitting next to me “are we driving to Singapore or flying?” It was the longest taxi I have ever done. I was five or six hours into my journey at this stage and keen to get on with it. The engines started to scream and we were in the air, the journey had officially begun.
Singapore airport is unlike any other airport I have been to, you almost want a longer stop over so you can experience all it has to offer. As it would turn out, I almost got my wish. After about ten Cognac’s(who can afford to drink it, but when it’s free what’s a man to do) I arrived at Changi (Singapore Airport). I walked straight of the plane and straight into a massage. This was after all the start of a holiday. Terry my little Singaporean mate was my therapist and he worked his poor little hands within an inch of their life. Still feeling the effect of my free Cognac I headed back down stairs for a beer. I ended up drinking with a young lass from Copenhagen and I was surprised she was unaware that her country was famous for ice cream in Australia. I then went on say that I was looking forward to going to her country and would hope to go to Amsterdam during my travels……..oops, wrong country. I bought her a glass of Yellowtail, Aussie Chardonnay, and decided to check what time my plane left. I pulled out my boarding pass and double checked what time my plane was leaving. I looked up at the screen to see my plane had boarded 10 minutes ago……..my heart sunk. So as any self respecting Aussie would do, I skolled my beer first………then ran. For those of you that have not been to Changi, it is massive. It takes over ten minutes to clear the shopping center and get to the terminals……..if you walk.
I often go for a run to clear my head, push myself hard enough that the only thing in my head is my next breath, this was a different kind of run. In an airport that I wasn’t familiar with I started to run, I had no idea which direction to run, only that I needed to go in a direction fast. Gate 47, I won’t forget that in a hurry, not just because I was late, not because it was the last two digits Boeing gave the type of aircraft I had to catch, more so that it was the furthest away. With my back pack in hand I was running through one of the busiest enclosed spaces in the world trying to set a new world record. There was no clearing of the head on this run I was thinking a million things, mostly Melissa is going to kill me. “ So Paul why did you miss the plane?”. “Well baby, there was this chic from Copenhagen”……… I ran faster.
When I got to Gate 47 there was another passport check and they need to process your boarding pass. “I’m sorry sir, the gate is now closed” the little trolley dolly says to me with a smile, with her head to the side. It is at this point some of the skills I learnt from my last trip to Europe came in handy. I was low on cash by the time I got to Paris a few years ago and couldn’t afford to ride the Metro (train). So I learned to jump the turn styles and run away from the guards. I could see the plane was still on the ground my only hope was the door was still open. I jumped the turn style and ran down the shute with the little trolley dolly shouting, sir…….SIR! The door was still open and I attempted to casually walk onto the plan, breathing harder than a man who had just finished running with the bulls in Spain. It was an anxious wait until the plan started to back away from the terminal, I was sure security would come and drag me off the plane. The adventure had officially begun.
