‘We found out the aircraft might be a few days late’: My airport disaster
I actually love airports, particularly when I’m just picking up and dropping off. It’s exciting to see people heading off to all corners of the globe when I’m not going, writes Phil Brown.
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I was out at the International Terminal at Brisbane Airport recently and was surprisingly relaxed. Mainly because I wasn’t going anywhere. We were seeing my son and his mate off on an epic trip to France, via Italy.
It was my first time at the International Terminal since our trip to Hong Kong in 2019. It’s been a long time between drinks for obvious reasons. Normally when I’m at the terminal and departing I’m ashen faced and nauseous due to my nervousness about flying. It’s ridiculous really because I have been flying internationally since the age of six. I’m getting better but still, I find it challenging.
The thing is I actually love airports, particularly when I’m just picking up and dropping off. It’s exciting to see people heading off to all corners of the globe when I’m not going.
When I’m on a flight myself though I hate everyone. They all look so relaxed and happy and they’re sitting there stuffing their faces. It makes me gag.
I don’t eat at all before a flight and not much on board either. I just get on and sit there stony-faced for as long as it takes.
But the other night I was loving it, watching the boys line up and check-in and then sending them through the departure gate and going home and having a cup of tea afterwards. And while we were there we were recalling various airport disasters. My son’s friend’s mum recalled checking in once only to find she had the wrong passport. Yikes!
We’ve had our own moments including the time I left the iPad in a taxi and only realised it when we were about to join the check-in queue. I rang the cab company and luckily they were able to send the cabbie back and off we went.
Then there was that time we turned up and the plane wasn’t there. It was a new airline based in Brisbane and we were flying with them to Bali. Or we thought we were.
When we got to the airport we found that the aircraft might just be a few days late. It was, they told me, in Malaysia waiting for a part that was being flown in from Europe.
“I don’t want that plane,” I told them. “It’s broken.” What to do with our holiday plans then? We went to Noosa for a week. Joy.