I checked in and was given seat 13F. Not being superstitious, I cared only that I'd bagsied a window and not an aisle seat.
The first crisis occurred when I remembered that my right-hand trouser pocket contained, as it always does, a Swiss Army knife. I confessed and was instructed to purchase a padded envelope for £3 so it could be posted back to me. I had a £20 note; they had no change. I went to buy a coffee, and at that point my flight was called and I dashed off to board it. When I returned to the airport (some hours later than I was expecting to, of which more later) everyone denied all knowledge of my penknife. I feel naked without it.
When I reached the gate, I handed over my boarding pass only to discover that my ticket had been reserved but the payment hadn't gone through, and I would be required to run back (through the departure lounge and security and down the stairs) to the ticket desk to purchase a new ticket - with my card - while they held the flight for me to board under the resentful gaze of all the passengers I'd held up.
Once on the plane things got much better: the seat next to mine was occupied by a rather dashing pilot who was hitching a ride home after flying to Frankfurt. He was covered in gold braid and made the cabin crew giggle during their safety demonstration. We arrived in Edinburgh and I got in a taxi driven by a friendly young woman who offered to come back for me at 1.
The presentation itself was anticlimactic; there were only six attendees and I wasn't even required to stand up while I said my piece. After discussion, lunch and chat I strolled outside to wait for my nice taxi driver, who didn't show up. I gave her 15 minutes, went back in, called another taxi, hared across the city and missed my 14:00 flight by five minutes.
I had to pay a £60 supplement - with my card, again - to a severe BA lady who looked me up on her computer and said "You had some trouble this morning, too, did you? Not having a good day?" But despite her frostiness and my strictly non-transferable ticket she did grant me a seat on the 16:00 service.
Which was delayed until 17:00 and took off at 17:25.
At 18:00, the captain announced that the plane had developed a fault and been diverted to Birmingham, where we would await a replacement.
We touched down at City (flying low over Canary Wharf, the Dome and the green laser beam thing from the Naval College) at 8:30, by which time the ferry had shut up shop and I had to go round to the Blackwall Tunnel.
I can't really complain. Pretty much everything that went wrong was a result of my own stupidity, I never object to hanging around in airports watching planes take off, and the diversion meant I got three airplane rides for the price of two.
I also had the opportunity to buy some premium gin at Edinburgh airport. I was lucky enough to be served by a woman who told me how to drink it (with cucumber, not lemon). "You'll either love it or hate it," she said cheerfully, "but I think you'll love it."
I loved it when I got in last night, but I would have loved anything alcoholic by that stage.
