When I decided to travel to Sicily
it was on a whim. I booked my flight the night before I was meant to depart and slept through my alarm in Berlin
. When I awoke to a rude and pounding hangover, I checked the time. My flight was leaving in half an hour. Within minutes I was in an uber on the way to the airport instructing the driver that if he sped us there, disobeying the basic road rules, I would reward him with a ten-dollar tip.
It was a new feature that Uber had introduced, the ability to tip a driver, but one that I was very grateful for, for the frugal incentive seemed to instil new gusto into my driver. It’s what makes travelling great, doing things on the spur of a moment, slightly hungover, and with little confidence as to where you are headed next. We ducked and dodged through traffic as I looked up what terminal I was supposed to be at.
Would my travel insurance cover the fact that I was hungover and had missed my flight? Probably not, I didn’t think that ‘hangover’ was one of the reasons listed under Section A for cancellation
, which motivated me even more to catch my flight. But now that I was up and on the way to the airport it seemed imperative that I catch my flight and not waste a good sleep-in.
When I arrived at the airport, my tee-shirt had beer stains on it and my shoes smelt something of tar, cigarettes and excrement, I ran to the security area and lined up behind the X- Ray machines. Where was my divine intervention, my Deus-Ex Machina, would someone not stop the plane on the runway, did they not know I was here - no special treatment for me?
The airport officer informed me when I urged him that I was late that all passengers should arrive an hour early to be on time. I rolled my eyes and stared at the woman in front of me, she had at least seven suitcases to be checked. For what seemed like an eternity the security checked her bags and I lamented the previous night’s drinking.
I had my bags checked and ran forward through to the terminal where people were still lining up. I had time to wash my face and change my tee-shirt to something more suitable for flying, something not stained with low-grade moonshine and kebab juice. I smiled at myself in the mirror, had I sub-consciously planned this?
Did I enjoy the thrill of nearly missing a flight? What would my travel insurer have said if I tried to claim for this, no doubt a big NO, which is well within their right, as my reasons for nearly missing the flight were not consistent with their policy wording. Still, I was glad to have the travel insurance, it gave me a confidence while overseas.
In recommendation to other travellers who do not enjoy the feeling of cortisol pumping through their bloodstream, it is always best to know your itinerary from back to front before you go anywhere, and if possible book your flights well in advance, you’ll save yourself money and a headache. Also, Sicily was well worth getting out of bed for.