Escape from Scotland, Part 2.

Plane finally took off from Scotland at a bit before 4PM.  Happy to have been waiting at the airport in the sunshine for nine hours...  really did not believe it was actually going to take off this time and starting to recognise other people who had been on the same flight two days ago trying to leave Scotland.  Feeling pretty good about life, flight only 1.20 minutes, then a bus ride for an hour, then a quick trip on the metro, then K.

Was not banking on the French being as hopeless as the UK when it snowed.  Plane landed at about half past five.  Bought a bus ticket after getting some help with translation from a lovely French PhD student who had been in Scotland for what was supposed to be a weekend visiting her fiance.  Panic set in when it turned out that all the buses had been cancelled because of the snow.  With PhD Student and a couple of Lithuanian girls, we got refunds for the tickets, tried to hire a car.  All gone.  No taxis.  Planes keep arriving.  Crowd keeps getting bigger, people running everywhere. An hour or two of chaos.  No information from anyone.  People going nuts running about.

Rumour that buses running again, but will take 5 hours to get there – rush to ticket stand, get tickets again, one Australian, two Lithuanians and one South Korean all being kept updated as to what was actually going on by PhD student, who asked questions, threw tantrums when necessary and got information, and was generally fantastic.  We were near the head of a very long queue, probably in the order of 4-500 people by this stage, all trying to get on the first bus that was allegedly going to arrive at some point that evening.  Bear in mind it is probably about -10 at least.  Queue quickly turns into a mob, people crushing forward, pushing in all over the place.  I go and talk to some cops, tell them that this is really getting dangerous, they need to organise a queue as this formless mob/moshpit of people just kind of moving like a huge blob all over the place for no apparent reason.  Helpful French cops smoke cigarettes and shrug shoulders.  Bus arrives, we all miss it because of people pushing in.

Crowd moved to another terminal, with us being put at the head of the queue after PhD student throws another tantrum to someone who actually appears to be trying to organise mob.  Planes still arriving, mob getting bigger, more unruly.  People just keep pushing in – the queue, such as it is, does not get longer at the back, only the front as people keep charging to the front.  Because of this, mob keeps moving forward all over the place in random stupid kind of way as people keep rushing to the front of the queue again and again – would have looked like some kind of diseased organism from above – has moved about 100 metres from original starting point by the time that the group of myself and the four girls go inside to try to keep warm and wait until some kind of sanity develops.  Another couple of hours pass.  I go outside, discover that, finally, the cops and security staff have organised an actual queue that, despite everyone still pushing in, seems to be holding shape, as security staff finally telling people to go to the back of the line.  Which we do – and are now officially at the back, despite being on the first plane to arrive after the buses stopped running.  Wait outside – the group of us now swelling to include two Scottish girls, an Irishman and an American girl who is studying in Edinburgh.  Lithuanians and South Korean give up altogether, decide to spend the night in terminal.

Rest of us keep each other company as the buses slowly arrive, park for 45 minutes as the drivers have a break (!), then pick up people from the front of queue.  People still trying to push to front of queue, giving all and sundry complicated reasons why they absolutely have to be on the next bus.  At this point I really don't care what their reasons are: were someone to come along with a baby seal and claim that it would die unless on next bus, I'd be like fine, give me a hammer – have always wanted a white furry neck warmer.

All profoundly grateful to PhD student, who makes sure that we at least have some clue as to what is going on.  Finally get on a bus at some time past midnight, get to Paris at nearly 2 AM, well after the trains have stopped, and manage to get a taxi to Hostel, sharing with the American student – the taxi, sharing arrangements and destinations all being negotiated by PhD student, who really was just one of those people you hope to meet when things go wrong in a foreign country, but rarely do.  Finally get to hostel, and K, at 3AM.  Left the Edinburgh hostel at 6AM.  This is 21 hours for a flight of less than an hour and a half, and that 21 hours does not include the 48 hours after the first attempt was cancelled.  18 Coaches in all – that is, they left a mob of something in the order of 900 people standing on the pavement in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, well sub zero, with no information, no ability to go anywhere, no organisation at all.  It was a concession to us that they eventually decided not to close the terminal for the night, so we at least had somewhere to get warm.

Never fly with RYANAIR.  Their flights may be cheap but it cost me somewhere in the order of 4-5 times the cost of the flight in dealing with the 4 days of bullshit and extra transport to actually get, eventually, from A to B.  Lithuanian girls, who come from a country with a GDP of about ten bucks where the kind of weather we are having here is considered balmy, astonished that everything falls apart in UK and France when there is a bit of snow.  Back home, everything keeps running – icicles on buildings as thick as a human being – one of them showed me photos.  Group that I ended up with was a lot of fun - without them and PhD student would have had a rage aneurysm.  Seriously considered stealing a car at one point...  PhD student said she would drive it...

Photo.  From left, PhD Student, Lituanians, South Korean.

Cheers, B.