Sleep deprived post script

I'm sitting in Terminal 5. I haven't slept properly for about 32 hours. The weather is cold outside and apparently very bad in Aberdeen. My flight BA1386 is delayed. I can't say how long for. It hasn't even set off from Aberdeen yet.

I know, don't ask. I have no idea why it's coming from Aberdeen. I thought it was a domestic flight, not from a foreign country, albeit an ex-colony. In fact I've only been through ex-colonies on this trip, and all the flights have been on time. Up until now. We say it each year, but why does snow always surprise us when it comes?

The old queueing thing that was going on in Australia and Hong Kong is going on here as well. Only this time there were some irate Mancunians who were late for their connection. 'Calm down. You'll catch you're flight, they're not going to go with out you all are they?' I don't say any of this of course for fear of inflaming the situation or them thinking I was a scouse. Actually, now I think about it, I haven't shaved for six weeks, I haven't had a wash for nearly 24 hours, I'm wearing my jeans with the holes in and flip flops and my nails have grown too long in the time I've been away and my hair is probably a matted mess from the flight. So I'm not sure what I look like. There is a lot of heat, angry words, jostling, but no extra speed to get through passport control. It turned out their flight was also delayed.

I've just looked up at the Departures Board for my flight and it says 'enquire airline'. This is not good. I better go enquire.

***

Told you. The flight has been cancelled due to extreme weather in Manchester. HELLO. Anyway they are arranging ground transportation. Bus I suppose. They're arranging it now, the apologetic man says on the loud speaker. Departure time unknown.

It was going so well too. Had a nice barbecue last night. Kangaroo kebabs, fresh prawns and excellent company. Today my stomach was a bit off. Well quite a lot off. Lucky I had an aisle seat. So that didn't help the sleep situation. But plenty of water and I'll be fine.

Come to think of it. Did my baggage get checked in all the way through to Manchester? I better go and find out. The fraught looking nice man says they'll be at baggage reclaim. I'm not sure how he knows. He seems in control though, and very confident. We'll see. There don't actually seem to be many Mancunians on this flight, they all seem pretty calm. Sort of resigned. We get our bags, and to my relief mine is there. Then more queuing. If this was torture I'd have told all a long time ago. I wonder how the other Manchs from the previous late flight are getting on. I'm glad I'm not with them. I look too much like one of the foreigners or vagrants they were complaining about.

Oh look, my brother's come to get me. That's odd, how did he know? Oh no it isn't, just looks like him. Oh lord, don't say I'm hallucinating. We'll I'm not hallucinating about my bowels. I can feel a little rumble again and it settles. We've all been ushered down stairs to un-book from the flight and to re-book for the bus transfer. We are given a 10 pound refreshment voucher and invited to join a queue and wait for the bus. I don't feel hungry and I don't feel well. Another tummy rumble. Better go for a coffee and buy some water, then join the queue. Others get the same idea, but their place in the queue is kept by someone else.

It's an odd thing, extreme fatigue. There's a distortion of almost everything. It's like when time travellers go a bit slower through time than the rest, and yet time remains the same. Words seem stretched out and almost echoy, their faces somehow distorted. People walking past the corner of your eye seem to move too quickly and then too slowly. I'm not sure where my glasses are so everything looks a bit blurred anyway.

***

I've been for half a coffee and a bottle of water. I thought I'd better come back, I don't want to miss the bus. Sure enough I've joined the back of the queue. How many people are on this flight? Someone said about 200. Each bus takes about 30 people. They're coming as quickly as they can about every 15 minutes! Others join the queue so I'm not at the back, must be about half way. 'Oh God' I pray and wait. Another tummy rumble, a bit more insistent this time. There can't be anything left surely. More waiting. 'Please hurry' now to the God of hurrying buses up. I better go for a wee before the journey, it's a four hour trip. Time is definitely standing still now.I'm sooo tired. OK. I'm going to have to go. A kind lady says she'll keep an eye on my bags. By now several people have had the same idea, so it doesn't sound weird. She gives me a funny look, and I remember how I look, so I speak in my best doctor voice and she seems OK about it. Oops another tummy rumble, better hurry. I think I've got wind. I follow the trickle of people who seem to know the way. Through the door to the loo. Another rumble-come-crampy feeling.

It wasn't wind as I reached to toilet door.

'Oh Gooood'. I really do need Divine inspiration. I'll just have to clean myself up as best I can and deposit the underpants in the bin. 'Thank you', plenty of people have travelled 'commando' before this intrepid adventurer.

Back to the queue. Where is my place? Where is the nice lady who was looking after my bags? I look up and down. Nowhere to be seen. She's actually moved about thirty places down the cue, and there are my bags too. I thank her, and explain it took a bit longer than I thought. I think enough information, don't you? She explains that a bus has come, in a slurry time distorted way. Woew, did the room spin? No, just feel a bit light headed. I don't pursue the conversation, except 'I hope we get through next time'. She agrees and turns away as if there's a bad smell.

Waiting is such a soul destroying thing. It's such a waste of time and you're so helpless. The first thing I'll do when I get home after a shower is to cut my nails. Really I don't know how they grew so quickly, and now they are a bit dirty too.

I suddenly realise I look, smell and feel like a tramp. The room is spinning, and I feel sooooo tired. I suppose if I lie down on the floor and go to sleep nobody would be surprised. 'Oh God, I'm sorry for ever doubting you. Please deliver your servant from this hell, I don't mind how. A miracle or something like that, to prove to these unbelievers, say a magic carpet or a cloud and heavenly hosts. I don't mind'

***

Another bus has arrived. Will we make it? There's a lot of people in front. We all quicken our pace so as not to loose our position. A man is counting at the front of the queue. It comes to me. 'Are you travelling with anyone?''No I reply quickly' and hurry through as the tape comes down. I look back at the remaining queue, and the lady who looked after my bags. I should have let her go through really. 'Sorry Lord'.

I get to the bus. It's freezing outside. Please don't have miscounted. The bus driver is packing away the luggage in the hold. Great, loads of space. I've made it. On to the bus. Only one space left. The boy who has his bag on the seat next to him, hoping a weirdo wont sit next to him, has to move it. He has a university scarf round his neck. Looks like a posh boy travelling north to Mater and Pater for Christmas. It is now his nightmare too. I speak in as plummy a voice as I can. as I apologise for having to get him to move his stuff. I now sound like one of those aristocratic intellectuals who has fallen on hard times or had a mental illness. Oh sod it, don't care anymore. He's young enough and needs to know that not all weirdos are weird.

***

This is when the time distorting effect of sleep deprivation has it's benefit. The next thing I know we're half way home at Warwick motorway services and we have a 15 minute break. I feel a bit better, and buy some grapes. Wrong thing to do. I spend the rest of the break on the loo. Still, no more accidents. Then back home. It's feels like one of those ski trip transfers. Glistening snow on the ground and bright sunshine outside. One of my favourite feelings. I wonder if I can go skiing again. The boy next to me is sleeping with a hanky over his nose. I think that's a bit extreme really. We get to T3 in no time. I'm first off, and first with my bags off. Into a taxi and back home. I'm sure, before he pulled away, the taxi man sprayed something into the back seat.

Rachel is waiting to let me in. I give her a little hug and explain. Upstairs and shower. I'm a new man. Cup of tea, and need to make some decision. They'll wait until the new year. The phone goes, it's Luigi from Italy...but that's another story.