Friday, 7 January 2011



I'm back in St Andrews which means back to being able to blog properly.
Where to start...

Tell me have you seeen the marvelous breadfish,
swimming iiiiiin the ocean waters?
Have you seen that the marvelous breadfish
It's like an inverse sandwich.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh for Fishermen and Shaaaaarks

Okay, now I've got that out of my system I can start with some serious blogging. Wahaha. Oh and see the Weebl and Bob link I've added now.

The last time I said anything remotely coherent and interesting was probably about the 23rd Decemeber. I was sick as a parrot (why do people say that???) and I was packing frantically for my Christmas and New Years secret holiday.
Keeping it a secret from Tony was desperately hard. I thought that making sure he didn't get confused when I packed all of my summer clothes to go home for winter was going to be hard too, but no, typical male didn't even notice that I was packing t-shirts and shorts when it was a snow blizzard outside. :)
I was really quite proud of myself for keeping it secret for so long though. Since the 29th November actually! A whole month!! His mum bought me a ticket as a surprise Christmas present for him. Lovely huh :)

Actually getting to Tortola turned out to be something of a nightmare. The day before I was due to fly most of the flights were still cancelled due to the snow and bad weather, so I spent forever on the phone to American Airlines trying to figure out if my flights were cancelled or not. Apparently American can't afford real people to talk to you on the phone because I spent half an hour going around in circles with an automated woman trying to convince her that I was flying on the 23rd December and not the 25th. I was getting extremely frustrated, especially since my mum was sat next to me laughing her head off and I was on Skype to Tony at the same time trying to convince him that I was chatting to my grandparents and they are just awfully hard of hearing. It was not until later that night that I finally got confirmation that my flights were still operating. Phew.

In St Andrews just before leaving for home where the REAL snow started!

So my first flight left at 7am, which meant I had to be at the airport for 5am. Delightful. I woke up at 3am after only getting one hour of sleep, I was still really ill and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't eat or drink any food at all. It wasn't looking good. I felt so awful I almost made the decision there and then to just give up and stay at home for the holidays. I made the decision to be brave and try my hardest to suck it up. I ended up having a bit of a chunder in the car on the way to the airport, which I haven't done since I was about 6 years old. Gross, I know, but it made me feel better and I thought I was good to go.
Of course, I'm so quite to forget that I literally have the worst luck in the whole universe and I arrived at the airport at 5am to the most packed out check in I have ever seen in my entire life. Whilst waiting in the humungous queue I suddenly started to feel very, very sick and dizzy. I sat myself down on the floor and tried to ride it out but it only got worse. I asked for a chair to sit on while I was waiting but I was feeling worse that I've ever felt. Shaky, dizzy, sick, everything you can imagine. I tried to guilt trip the attendant into letting me go to the front of the queue but I had no luck. I ended up having to call a paramedic, he checked all my vitals and everything came up completely normal and since I didn't want to be taken to the hospital he plopped me in a wheelchair and sent me on my way. I made the flight by just five minutes but felt absolutely terrible when I saw the anguish on my mums face as she had to watch me get wheeled away and didn't get to say a proper goodbye as we were in such a rush.

My flight to London consisted of about half an hour of me trying to concentrating on my breathing so I didn't go and spew everywhere. When we landed I had to wait bloody ages for them to bring me another wheelchair and I still had to pick up the rest of my boarding passes. I was finally wheeled off to a man with a golf cart buggy thing and he drove me painfully slowly to the bus stop so I could get to the right terminal for my connection. After a 15 minute bus ride I finally made it to the desk to collect my boarding passes only to be told that I was too late and would have to get a later flight. I was thoroughly disheartened at this point and thought I was never going to get there, so instead of getting mad and shouting at the attendant that it was in absolutely no way my fault, I just looked forlornly at her and mumbled "oh, alright". The lady pushing me wheeled me off to the desk to sort out my predicament and I just felt like crying I was so exasperated.

Now I don't know if the clerk took pity on me because I was in a wheelchair and I probably looked like I was about to die or if she had a bit of Christmas spirit and decided to be kind...but she came running up and told the lady pushing me that if she ran fast enough, I'd be able to make the flight. I was so so happy, I can't even explain. Of course, I was pushed at exactly half a mile an hour to the gate. I know I was so dizzy and shaky I could barely stand, but I was honestly so tempted to just get up and walk myself there, because I'm certain it wouldn't have been as slow as she pushed me.

That flight was ten hours long and by the time I arrived I'd managed to eat a little bit and sleep some and so I was feeling much better, catching my connecting flight was no problem and I could even manage to walk myself there, though I was still a little dizzy and everything felt very surreal like I was looking at everything from outside of my body. Very weird. I boarded my flight to San Juan with no problems at all. Just when I thought things were starting to look up, everything came crashing down on top of me, yet again...

I only had 45 minutes to make my final connection to Tortola and since it was on a little propellor plane I'd have had to run across the airport to get to the gates for the small planes. As predictable as you can imagine a "strange noise" in the back of the plane caused a 35 minute delay in SJ before we even took off. Ten minutes before landing the cabin crew announced that our connecting flights had all kindly left ten minutes early and we'd all have to stay in a hotel overnight and catch the first flight in the morning. I was about as amused as a fish in the middle of the Sahara. I got off the plane ready to start effing and blinding at someone for their absolutely ridiculous conduct. They knew the plane was delayed and yet they couldn't wait just ten minutes so people could catch their connections. Stupid of them They were the last flights of the day too so it wasn't like we were going to interrupt any schedule anywhere. Unbelievable. I was so overwhelmed and exhausted by this point that I just burst into uncontrollable sobs. I spoke to the guy at the desk and explained through angry tears that I'd been travelling almost 36 hours and it was utterly unacceptable that I had just half an hour left to go before I could be in a nice warm, familiar bed with familiar faces around me and they decided to let the flights go early. Disgusting American Airlines, utterly disgusting!!

I tearfully stormed off to get my bags and headed over the the Best Western hotel attached to the airport. I waited over 20 minutes at the front desk to get my room key because the woman was doing each customer excruciatingly slowly. I'm seriously surprised there wasn't steam coming out of my ears at this point I was so mad. When I finally got my room number, I found I was on the top floor of the sketchy looking building and I had to take two elevators to get to my floor because the hotel was so obscure that the normal one didn't stop at my floor. There turned out to be only 3 rooms on my level, so I wasn't really feeling very safe. I've never stayed in a hotel on my own before and I surely won't be doing it again anytime soon. It was about 10pm by the time I'd gotten settled and outside the temperature was still around 23 degrees but the room was absolutely freezing. I turned the AC up to 23 thinking it would get nice and toasty but nothing happened... all night long. I ended up sleeping in my clothes and even put my coat over me it was so cold. Before sleeping I decided to jump in the shower to try and calm myself down and freshen up, but as I was standing there everything started to sway ever so slightly and I started to feel ill again, the same sort of ill I'd felt at the beginning of my journey. I was not amused. I tried sleeping and managed to doze until about half 4 in the morning, I suddenly found myself wide awake and ravenously hungry. So I got dressed and wandered off to find the breakfast lounge which opened at 5am. I got there 5 minutes early and the nasty horrible Puerto Rican wouldn't let me in. I had to go to the business room and play solitaire on the computer while my stomach screamed blue murder at me for food. I finally got in to find the selection was crap and I felt far too sick to eat anything. Since I was alone I was so worried that I wouldn't make it onto my flight. I managed to drag myself through check in and security and finally landed safely in Tortola on Christmas Eve morning!

To be continued.....

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