It hardly seemed any time at all since we were last heading for an airport and far away, sunnier climes, so it was with a huge sense of déjà vu that we found ourselves, once again, on the road to Newcastle Airport.
But before we had even left home, the trouble started. At approximately 9.00pm last night, when we were just getting in the holiday mood, my phone pinged with an incoming email. I drew in a sharp breath when I glimpsed the subject line: “Important news about your British Airways flight tomorrow”.
With some trepidation I opened the email to see that both our flights, that is Newcastle to Heathrow, then Heathrow to Los Angeles, had been cancelled! As a result of the war in Iran there is a shortage of aviation fuel and, as such, we could expect flights that were only half full to be cancelled this summer. Obviously ours were amongst them!
As I looked at Trevor with dismay, I scrolled a bit further down the email to see that we had been rebooked on some later flights. So instead of the 05:55 from NCL to LHR, we were now booked on the 09:10. After breathing a sigh of relief, I said “at least we’ll have an extra three hours in bed now!” ☺
This morning at 06:40am, therefore, we set off on the familiar route to the airport. Parking at the long term car park, we trundled our bags around to the terminal building in the cool morning air. May, so far, has been unseasonably cold in northern Britain, and we were looking forward to some California sunshine.
When we entered the terminal building and made our way towards the British Airways desk, we could not believe the size of the queue; we had never seen anything like it at Newcastle. The queue snaked around the zigzagging barriers and all the way back, almost to the entrance. We got talking to some people in front of us who were also booked on the 05:55 flight, but who had never received notification that they had been rebooked. So they had been there since 4.00am!
It was utter chaos in the airport. We had actually already checked in and printed our boarding passes last night, so all we needed to do was leave our cases at the bag drop. However, despite Ryan Air and Air France having self service bag drops, British Airways didn’t.
The queue crept forward at a snail’s pace and we started to worry that we wouldn’t make our flight. We stopped a member of the airport staff and asked her what would happen if we were still in the queue when the flight was about to close. She unsmilingly informed us that we would be called to the front of the queue if that was likely to happen.
In fact, that is exactly what did happen. Around 8.15am (don’t forget we still had to go through security!) the call went up for all those on the 09:10 flight to Heathrow to make themselves known. We put up our hands and were directed to another desk, where we were able to have our bags checked right through to LAX… or so we thought.
Finally, our bags were tagged and sent through, and we hotfooted it to security. At least we didn’t have the debacle that we had had last month, with only one scanner working an hardly any staff. Once we were through, we set off in the direction of gate C23, where boarding had already started.
We boarded the aircraft and found our seats. Stashing our rucksacks in the overhead lockers, we sat down and clicked our seatbelts shut. There were hardly any other passengers on the flight, which surprised us considering the earlier LHR flight had been cancelled.
Anyway… we set off on time for the one hour 10 minute flight to London Heathrow. I hadn’t had any breakfast, so I enjoyed the flapjack and bottle of water we were given en route (British Airways really push the boat out!). Soon we heard the “cabin crew prepare for landing” announcement and we looked out of our windows as the A320 aircraft slowly descended, then lined up for her final approach into LHR, swooping down onto the runway with hardly a bump. The first leg of our journey was done. ☺
Our flight to LAX was not until 11.40am, so it gave us time enough to pop into the Crown Rivers pub at Terminal 5 to enjoy a freezing cold pint of beer – we certainly felt we could use one! ☺
Once we looked on the departure board and saw that all passengers for British Airways flight BA281 were to proceed to gate 54, we finished off our drinks, shouldered our rucksacks and joined the hurrying throng of passengers towards the departure gate.
As we joined the queue and reached the part where they scan your boarding pass and check your passport, there seemed to be some trouble with mine. The guy scanned and checked it several times, but in the end he had to enter my details manually; likewise for Trevor. “Is this because our original flight was cancelled?” I asked the guy. “Probably” he said, obviously a man of few words.
Eventually we found ourselves on board the 777 aircraft in row 45, starboard side. Trevor had the aisle seat and I had the middle one; there was no-one seated at the window and I hoped it would stay that way. Indeed it did; once again the flight was far from full. This was great – it meant that I didn’t have to put my rucksack in the overhead locker and was free to spread some of my stuff out into the adjacent seat. ☺
We took to the skies on time and settled back in our seats for the 10 and a half hour flight to Los Angeles. At least we were on our way! We hoped there would be no more mammoth queues or delays, although it is usually a hassle entering the USA; they have stringent immigration rules and, in the past, it has sometimes taken us three hours from landing before we leave the airport.
The flight continued as flights do. Long, boring, tedious, uncomfortable. The refreshment trolley coming around is usually the only way to break up the monotony, and you tend to have something to eat or drink whether you want it or not, because it makes a change from just sitting there. As the pleasant cabin crew lady approached our row with her laden trolley, I ordered a Bacardi and Coke Zero with ice, while Trevor asked for a whisky and ginger.
What else can I write? It’s a long-haul flight. We sat there as the aircraft sped through the flawless blue sky, a cotton-wool like layer of fluffy white clouds below us. As we were flying west, we were following the daylight around, so it was constantly bright and sunny. The refreshments trolley came around again; this time for lunch. I read my book, played some games on my phone and watched a film from their limited selection: Philomena, starring Dame Judy Dench and Steve Coogan. The trolley came around again; this time for dinner. The “distance to go” display slowly counted down the miles. Boring. Boring. Boring. As we crossed the Rockies, the previously-smooth flight experienced a little turbulence, but it soon smoothed out again. I got some good photos of snow-capped mountains from the aircraft window.
Finally, eventually, the announcement came that we would be landing at LAX in about 40 minutes and everyone perked up a little. Looking out of the window, we could see the bustling metropolis below us; huge six-lane freeways, skyscrapers, office blocks and here and there the blue rectangles of swimming pools. The landscape was mountainous and arid looking.
Soon we felt the wheels of the aircraft bump down onto the runway and onto American soil. We had arrived! ☺
The plane trundled its way around to the gate as we looked out of the window into the Los Angeles afternoon. As we were now on terra firma, I switched off flight mode on my phone, and listened to the various tones of emails and WhatsApp messages coming in. One email caught my eye: Important information from British Airways it said, ominously.
Opening that email first, I quickly scanned its contents. “Oh no!” I exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!” “What?” Trevor asked, looking at my dismayed face. “There’s been an issue with the baggage handling at Heathrow!” I said. “It’s very likely our suitcases didn’t make it onto the aircraft!”
After all the stress of the cancellations, queues, rebookings and the general stress of airports, my heart plummeted to my boots. A great start to our Great American Adventure.
We noticed that the doors of the aircraft were now open, and we hefted our rucksacks onto our shoulder and made our way along the aisle and off the aircraft. I had that strange, disorientated feeling that comes with a long-haul flight and a time difference of eight hours. I looked at my watch; it was just before 3.00pm local time.
We hurried along through the airport noise and crowds to passport control, and joined the lengthening zigzagging queue. Many of the booths did not contain any airport staff; you would think that they would know when incoming flights were due and staff passport and immigration control appropriately. However, it’s not as if we weren’t expecting it. We have flown into the USA enough times now to know that, with one or two exceptions, it is usually a drawn-out thing.
The queue slowly snaked around the barriers until we were finally at the front; an hour and a half later. The guy took our passports, scanned them, typed something into his computer and asked us the purpose of our visit, “Holiday” we told him. He then passed our documents back to us and told us to enjoy our stay.
This was now moment-of-truth time. We headed towards the luggage carousels with trepidation. When we found Belt 3, where the luggage from BA flight 281 was supposed to have been sent, we saw a still and silent conveyor belt with only about a dozen cases stacked haphazardly beside it. A quick glance at the pile told us that our cases were not among them. We were in the USA, and all we had were the clothes we were standing up in as well as the contents of our rucksacks!
We headed for the exit to look for the Newmarket Holiday rep and soon found her; a pleasant older lady called Tomi. There was already a group of people with her, all disgruntled and all of us without our luggage. Hearing several Geordie accents, we realised that they must have been on the same Newcastle flight that we were on, and it seemed that it was only that particular flight where the passengers hadn’t received their bags; nine of us in total.
It was now 4.45pm and I was expecting a minibus to take us to our hotel, but Tomi then informed us that we had to wait until the next flight came in, in an hour’s time (plus the time it would take them to get through immigration etc). I said incredulously to her “You mean that we have to wait for another three hours? After a ten and a half hour flight?”. She looked at me apologetically. “Well, our driver is on the way and the hotel is 23 miles away, and he won’t want to have to come back twice”, she said. This was preposterous!
In the meantime, we decided to go and register that our two cases were missing. A lady from our flight, who was a solo traveller, asked if she could come with us. We went to the BA desk and showed them our luggage receipts and described our suitcases, and we were given a reference number. We also had to give the address of our hotel in Los Angeles (where we would be staying for two nights) as well as the address for the next hotel, in Palm Springs. We certainly hoped the cases wouldn’t take that long to come!
Afterwards, Trevor and I decided to kill some of the time having a cold beer, and we asked Tomi where we could go. She told us there was a bar upstairs and asked us to be back for 6.30pm so she didn’t have to come looking for us. The other lady, who introduced herself as Joyce, went with us upstairs and we took our seats at the table in the crowded bar.
I went and ordered three pints of beer; the bill came to an outrageous $51.00! We sat and enjoyed our beers in a sort of dazed, semi-somnolent state. At home it would be about 1.30am and we were longing for some sleep.
As advised by Tomi, we returned downstairs at 6.30pm where we were told that the second flight had landed and we were ‘just’ waiting for everyone to come through. Meanwhile, the others in our party who were missing their luggage went to register theirs. At 7.00pm Tomi told us that our bus had arrived and said we could wait on the bus if we wished. As there was nowhere to sit at the airport, we went outside where cars, taxis, minibuses and coaches went to and fro in a cacophony of blaring horns and diesel fumes. Soon we spotted our coach, which pulled up just in front of us. The driver alighted and said he would put our luggage in the coach’s locker. “What luggage?” we all complained.
We boarded the coach which, like most coaches we’ve travelled on in the States, was over air-conditioned, the arctic blast of cold air shocking us out of our semi–awake state.
It was around 7.30pm when the coach filled up and set off towards our hotel. We had been at the airport a full four and a half hours after arriving. Completely unacceptable.
It was another hour before we reached our hotel, the DoubleTree at Buena Park, LA. We spotted a large Target supermarket across the road, which Tomi told us stayed open late (just as well!). Luckily, we had all been checked in as a group, so Tomi issued us with our room keycards and we thankfully made our way, sans cases, along the corridor to room 102 which was on the ground floor.
After dumping our rucksacks we had only one thought – head over to Target and purchase what we would need for a couple of days; it was unlikely that our bags would arrive tomorrow.
Inside the large, bright, airy supermarket, we selected a trolley and hotfooted it to the toiletries aisle, where we added toothbrushes and toothpaste, a Bic razor (in Trevor’s case) and some cleansing wipes and moisturiser. I then headed to the cosmetics counter for some basic makeup; powder, mascara and eye pencil. Then it was off to the clothing aisle where we each bought a t-shirt and I purchased a pair of white jeans and a 5-pack of knickers. We spotted some other couples in our group in Target, obviously in the same boat.
As we made our way to the checkout, we passed the “wines and spirits” section, so we decided to add a bottle of prosecco to our haul and enjoy it once we were back in our room.
The whole lot came to $171.00, but we’d been informed that we could claim expenses for “essentials” back from British Airways, so everything we’d bought (except the prosecco) would come under that description, as I couldn’t really walk around in the California heat in my hoodie and grey joggers, could I?
Once we were back in our hotel room, we opened the bottle of fizz and dispensed it into the two glasses we found in the bathroom. Then we thankfully flopped onto our bed and enjoyed the cold bubbly as we half-heartedly watched some crap American game shows on TV.
Once the bottle was finished, I went into the bathroom and cleansed my face, cleaned my teeth and applied moisturiser. At least the hotel bathroom had shower gel, shampoo and conditioner in dispensers bolted to the wall.
It was around 10.30pm when we settled down to sleep, which was 6.30am the following morning back home, so we’d effectively been awake for over 24 hours. The day had been incredibly eventful before we had even arrived at our hotel, and we were asleep more or less immediately.