Going on holidays is great isn't it? Lots of you will be flying somewhere before Christmas, but, before you go abroad, you have to negotiate the airport and most importantly, the airplane.
- You barely sleep a wink the night before you head off. It's not just excitement that keeps you awake though. I't's mainly because you have to stay up until 1.30am drying your clothes, packing, unpacking, repacking, checking the 7 day forcast and the likes. You swear blind that you'll be more prepared the next time you go away, but, let's face it, you won't be. You are forever destined to spend the night before your holidays desperately washing and wondering if you are packing enough pants.
- You know how much spending money you have for your trip down to the last cent but always remember to allow a little extra because, you will manage to spend a FORTUNE on nothing at the airport. It's easy to get carried away, you are on your holiers after all, you deserve it right? But somewhere, between a bottle of water, a miserable looking cheese sandwich, the obligatory airport pint, a couple of magazines and books you probably won't read, you've managed to spend €100. How did that happen?!
- No trip to the airport is complete without a 'I LOST MY PASSPORT / PHONE / WALLET' panic. It is absolutely guaranteed to happen. Make your peace with it. Even though you've got your passport sellotaped to your chest, your money sewn into your trousers* and padlocked, you will spend at least one hour of your time in the airport crazily patting yourself down.
- You will bring your plush neck pillow and look on smugly at silly, silly passengers who have come unprepared. However, after fifteen minutes sitting directly upright, head craned forward as if you are looking around a corner, you give up the ghost, take off the pillow and go au natural.
- If you are over 5ft 5', legroom on the plane is always an issue. If you are over 5ft 10', you may as well just give up and stand in the jacks for the duration of the flight. You basically spend the entire time moving, as though you are doing some kind of bizarre seated dance, desperately trying to alleviate the dead legs and claustrophobia. This is made ten times harder of course, when the absolute wagon in front of you decides to recline. You spend the rest of your flight screaming internally; 'WHY ARE YOU ALLOWED RECLINE? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE'. Until, eventually, you give in and recline.
*When I was going travelling, my Mother actually sent me to New Zealand with my money sewn into my tracksuit bottoms. I felt like a right tool, let me tell you.
