That I didn’t EXACTLY make my flight from Paris to Prague as scheduled.
Now, before you jump to any crazy assumptions, you should know that this really wasn’t my fault.
I was sitting at my gate an hour and a half before takeoff, proud of myself for the following things:
- I had woken up at 4:30 am after having gone to bed at 3:30 to get in a cab by 5.
- I had found the correct desk in the French airport, with all my belongings, checked everything and made my way through security.
- Ordered a bit of breakfast, and was comfortably facebooking by 5:30 as I waited for my 7:15 flight.
- And I did all this whilst my eyelids were being held up by toothpicks, and I was enduring a very severe tummy ache.
So I waited and waited and finally we began boarding. I hopped in line and when I reached the front, my ticket did not scan properly. The AirFrance employee told me in her broken English that I was taking off from gate 53B, not 53A—just one desk over. I smiled and made my way over to what I found to be an empty desk, an empty gate, and an empty seating area that was being shared with gate 53A. Confused, I asked the woman, “I should be taking off in 7 minutes, where is everyone?”
“You have meesed zee flight.”
“But I have been sitting here the whole time, and no other planes have left, how is that possible?”
“Zhey must av shanged your gate number.” She types vigorously on the computer. “Go to gate seexty-four for customur serveece.”
It turns out that yes; my flight’s gate had, in fact, changed. And, yes, it was my fault that I did not understand the French announcement that was made. So fifty euro came out of the reluctant pocket and I was told that my next flight would leave at 12:55 pm. Now, in case you haven’t been keeping score, I will remind you that we are now at 7:20 am, and I am to occupy my half-awake self in the airport for over five hours.