Well here I am - Lima. What a ride it was, 4 flights in 24 hours is quite interesting, first on the skin and secondly for the positions you're willing to sleep in - dignity has been left at passport control as I've got my legs open, mouth open half dribbling with a scarf wrapped round my head, orange ear plugs in with a G&T resting in my palm. Long haul isn't in Vogue - fact.
Heathrow T1 was great, you don't need me to tell you, Pret a manger - great. Swarovski - great. Mac - great. French connection - brilliant. Little did I know my short peruse at heathrow was as good as it was going to get in the next 24 hours.......
I arrive in Frankfurt all smug as I'd slept the whole 1 hour it took to get there, armed with my 'Victoria' pillow (thanks Em) I look at my schedule, 'lovely' I think to myself 2 whole hours until my next take off, I might do some shopping, get some breakfast, find a wifi spot maybe. Then it dawned on me as we encountered a stupidly slow disembark, NO Victoria, the schedule is in LOCAL time, you have 1 hour NOT 2! Shit. 1 hour to get off this Airbus 320, get through passport control, switch terminals, go through the liquid crazy security checks, AND check in for my flight. So, I do what only can be described as military style ducking, diving, and weaving through the crowds at Frankfurt International to get to my flight to Suan Juan. Pheeeeew. The que for the passport checks at pre-board are massive, I've got time to wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead, drink some water and if I'm lucky maybe even fit a wee in (I'm desperate.) after having quite an interesting chat about Berlin with the lady in front (not managing to fit in the wee) we realise how ridiculous this que is, why is it taking so long!!? Well In keeping with usual standards at airports - no one, apart from the people at the front knew what the hell was going on.
Finally we (me and Berlin lady) got closer, we realised some serious shit was going down. People were being moved ques, and worse, being told they couldn't board. My heart started to pump quite hard now and I'm trying to remember if Ive broken the law in the last 2 years. My passport gets checked, I get moved ques. Oh no.
Once I finally get to the front of that que I quickly realise a cleavage and a smile will not help me at all. The lady checking my passport looks fierce, she looks like J-lo when she try's to be 'Jenny from the block' - J-Lo asks me if I have an 'Esta', Esta? I reply. She replys in her 'from the block' tone, 'yes the visa in which you're are required to have to enter the United States Of America' I'm clutching my Victoria pillow and put my best 'please don't hate me' voice on and reply 'I'm only in transit, I'm not even leaving the airport.' she tells me it doesn't matter, and I must leave the airport, visit the Visa desk, acquire a visa, and come back. The plane leaves in 20 minutes. Double fuck. J-lo tells me the plane will not wait.
Well. I was like Mo farah, I ran my little socks off, I tuned on the water works which must of saved me about 30 minutes at each security point. By the way, I had to do all the ridiculous liquid checks again plus I STILL NEEDED A WEE.
Honestly, it was awful. I've never wanted someone to help me quite so much as I did right in that moment.
I was convinced I wasn't going to make it. Stupid visa people charged me $60 for this torture, once I acquired this ridiculous piece if paper, water works went back on and I Usuain Bolted back to the flight. I made it. Phew. Massive, massive Phew.
I was on the flight, I got to the door and one of the last passengers to board and I ask the tanned man, can I use the loo? He replied 'is it desperate?' I nearly punched him.
As I took my seat, I thought, blimey this is a bit of alright, I couldn't work out if I was really really happy to be here or was this...... Hang on..... I'VE BEEN UPGRADED! Oh me oh my I'm in Premium Economy AND I'm in the middle 3 seats alone! If those doors shut and I have these three seats on the longest leg of this trip my faith will be restored and I'll kiss this ridiculous Esta and forget all about it. 'Boarding completed' the cabin crew announce YEEEEESSSS! Spread out, G&T, 50 Shades of Gray - lovely.
We're at 35,000 ft and I'm having a lovely time. Then Berlin woman approaches me, 'I've got the worst seat, it doesn't even recline and I've got back problems' I'm thinking, do I or don't I offer Berlin lady a seat. I've known her for 5 minutes, we had a brief chat about Berlin, I was happy for the company in the queue but right now, I want to be alone. Then I here myself say, oh come and sit here your more than welcome (DAM YOU Tripp!) My 3 seat upgrade dream was short lived as we talked about Berlin and her 3 children, 2 of them look like her, 1 doesn't (joy.)
San Juan. 3 hours until next flight. Yes, loads of time, recline, wifi maybe and little walk around this half decent airport. We all expected the long queue as it was 'The Untied States Of America' (said in a loud obnoxious way) I had my Esta, I had some sleep, bring it on San Juan. Halfway through the ridiculous passport control queue the little man comes out from his box, armed with a baton and a gun (really!?) he announces 'Ladies and Gentlemen, you will need to collect your luggage from baggage reclaim and re-check it for your connecting flights, whatever your airline told you about your luggage going to your final destination they were lying' ok, that's ok that's do-able, 46kg of luggage to wheel but that fine, maybe I'll have to put my Victoria pillow away I'm not sure I can carry that as well. I'm at the conveyabelt, people come, people leave, people come, people leave, the conveyabelt stops. My bags are not there. Shit..... Drama round 2 as I cry my way through this stopover also. What an emotional roller coaster but the ever-so-helpful man tells me I can make my claim in Lima as that is my final destination. 'Relax' I say to myself, worst things have happened. You're not dead, you're not hurt, and you're on the way to Peru.
The next two legs were fairly pain free, 'me-time' and 'wifi-time' between flights was just a dream I had, I spent each connection running my arse off.
When I finally got to Lima with one hugely bloated tummy, my Victoria pillow and a fresh set of clothes I made my baggage claim to the 'couldn't-give-a-flying-fuck-about your-bags-man' helped me as much as you would expect for 1am local time.
I was through in to arrivals where I'd hope all my adventures would come true, I swallowed my tears of pride for myself walked through the doors and felt the warm breeze on my skin. Hello Lima, my name is Victoria.
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