The flight was full so I stayed confined in my small space catching up on the latest film offerings and dozing in my seat while awaiting the airline meal and that glass of wine. It wasn't a long flight so I felt quite relaxed when I left the aircraft en route to my connection.
I didn't get any further than the entrance to the terminal. Passengers were being accosted by ground staff who were sorting passengers into groups, depending on their final destination.
"You've missed your connection," I was told curtly as if it was my fault. A boarding pass was thrust into my hand.
"You are being rerouted. Please fill in this landing card and clear customs and emigration and go to ... hotel. Your luggage will be transferred to your new flight." I stood there feeling lost while other passengers pushed and shoved around me trying to work out their new travel plans.
"How do I get to this hotel?" I shouted across a sea of heads to the busy people behind the desk.
"Take a taxi Ma'am, he will be paid at the hotel reception."
The formalities were quick and easy as is always the case in Singapore. In the arrival hall I searched desperately for a telephone to contact my son who was due to meet me at Adelaide Airport at 8am, it was now 11.30 pm. I wrestled with the gleaming machine I found that promised to put you through anywhere in the world. I pressed buttons and put in the number, I had no Singapore money so took out my credit card. A loud American voice shrilled out of the ear piece.
"What is your credit card number ma'am?"
Who the hell is this? I thought, before articulating the same question. I followed the instructions given by the voice and the sound of the ringing tone.
The call made, my son, for once, had picked up the phone and I informed him that he need not go to the airport until I found out more about where and when I would arrive.
I was soon sitting in the taxi and gave him the address I had been given.
"Yes ma'am, I know the place, has you flight been cancelled or delayed?"
"'Yes", I said surprised 'how do you know?" "Well ma'am no Westerner ever books into that hotel unless their flight has a problem, it is only popular with Chinese people."
My heart sank imagining lurid carpets, 1970s era rooms and the perfunctory lip service given to the customer that I have found prevelant in this style of hotel. Well it is only for a few hours so I can cope!
I had no pyjamas, no toothbrush, no toothpaste, no clean underwear, no change of clothes and no creams or make-up. Serves me right I thought for being too lazy to pack the small plastic bag allowed on board containing essential toiletries under 100 mls. The telephone rang out on the housekeeping hotline. The hotel may be used for stressed passengers coping with delayed or cancelled flights but their agreement obviously doesn't run to supplying a toothbrush.
After four hours of sleep I caught a taxi back to the airport where all went smoothly and once again I was sitting enjoying the delights of economy class. I had been rerouted through to Sydney which meant a further flight from there to Adelaide. As I studied my boarding pass for the connection I wasn't too concerned that the time frame between landing and take off was an hour and a half. I was being far too optimistic.
Landing at Sydney Airport I was again hailed by ground staff collecting ongoing passengers through to Adelaide. Again the flight had arrived late which meant very little time to clear all the formalities and travel over to the domestic terminal.
"Not a problem." The immaculately dressed ground crewman waved theatrically when the question was raised. He collected his 16 passengers and strode forth, with us following like a line of school children.
"We will bypass the crowd and go through the Fast Track Immigation line."
I looked at the other queues. There were only two or three people at each desk.
"Collect your luggage quickly," Mr Immaculate commanded obviously warming to his role.
The luggage circled, and circled, and circled. Then all the luggage had disappeared. Mr Immaculate was busy entertaining himself with a similarly dressed colleague, laughing and chatting, occasionally interrrupting himself to wave yet another stressed passenger through the customs line. I checked my watch. I had 45 minutes in which to collect my bag which wasn't there, clear customs, and get over to the domestic terminal and board my connection. Quite a feat.
I interrupted their tete- a- tete forcefully. I was not in the mood nor did I have the time for being considerate.
"My luggage is not here."
He looked surprised that I was still around. He then walked up to the luggage carousel and looked at it.
"We had better make a Lost Baggage Report," he declared.
Time was ticking away as I stood at the Lost Baggage desk. Mr Immaculate was searching in all the filing cupboards, presumably for a form. What happened to on-line data, I thought? He obviously hadn't fulfilled this role before.
After ten tense minutes he finally completed the required paper work. I looked at the Customs and Immigration line which was now filed back for about two miles around the Arrival Hall. I now had 30 minutes.
"We're going to the front of the queue," I told Mr Immaculate with determination. "Follow me."
I pushed through the crowd. I didn't check to see if he was following me or not. I reached the front of the line. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," I was gushing at anyone who got in the way as I pushed past them. The Customs Official looked at me and breathlessly I explained that I now had only twenty minutes to reach my connection. He looked past me to where Mr Immaculate had caught up.
"Can you take this lady through." he said.
The path from International to Domestic was crowded. My 'protector' had finally abandoned me. My heart was beating hard and I was running even harder. I was getting good at pushing my way through queues and getting to the front. I landed at the front of the Qantas Domestic queue.
"Adelaide." I gasped out breathlessly. "The flight leaving in ten minutes."
"You'll never make that," she said.
"Well I'll have to, unless someone is going to pay for me to stay overnight in Sydney. I am presuming that there isn't another flight to Adelaide tonight."
Casually the Quantas desk clerk looked at her machine. "No, not another one tonight. I will go and speak to my supervisor and see what she says."
Minutes ticked past and she returned looking cool and unflappable. She said if you can get on the bus waiting downstairs they will inform ground crew in the Domestic terminal you are on your way.
Another race but I made it. Hot, stressed, flustered, so so tired an desperate to use the Ladies I arrived at the flight boarding gate and found that there was a ten minute flight delay. Time to use the ladies and phone my son to let him know that I would be arriving.
My luggage took another four days to turn up, but that's another story!!