Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
I thought, “it’s broken!” Panicked I pressed the button to unlock the car door and … nothing. A glitch, surely. I tried again and the dull sound of nothing made my heart skip a beat. No. Fucking. Way! No way! “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I said aloud, still pressing the button, doing the same thing and hoping for a different result: the lunacy of panic settling in. Cursing the work of fobs when a simple bloody key would do!
I had three hours until the plane took off. Time was tight. But I can do it, I thought to myself. I threw my handbag on the ground and began rummaging from my phone. Next minute, I am googling where to find a locksmith, someone close.
“Lucky Locksmiths,” answered a droll voice down the line.
“Lucky, I need you here like ten minutes ago. Can you do it?”
My heart was in my throat and then instant relief in my gut a moment later.
He was quick, I’ll give him that. And now I’ve got two and a half hours before the plane takes off, which makes less than an hour to get there, drop the rental car and check the bag in.
I get to the check in area and am greeted by a woman behind the desk with a wide perfect smile, hair perfectly coiffed and lipstick perfectly shiny, which is in direct contrast to how scruffy I feel.
“Good morning. Destination and passport please.”
My face drops. I don’t even need to open my bag to know that I’ve forgotten my passport but I do it anyway. As I’m throwing my hand around the bottom of the bag, in my mind’s eye I can see my passport clearly still in the hotel room safe. Miss perfect smile continues to look at me with wide unblinking eyes, pretending to be patient but really not that patient. Around me I can feel anxious passengers waiting their turn for check in, luggage moves obediently along the travelator to destinations I know I won’t be going to today.
I blame it on the night before. Sure, it was Brilliant! But right now I was cursing the sweaty dancing, the carafes of cheap wine, cigars! Uggghh. As soon as I puffed on one of those I should have known to abort mission, get the hell out of Dodge. But, no. Whatever sensible, right-minded person who thought like that in the heat of a fun filled night, of random snogs and table dancing, that person wasn’t me.
“Would a licence do?” I offered up weakly.
The saccharin smile grew more taut around the edges.
“I’m sorry … blah, blah blah…”
What I really missed right now, needed with every fibre of my body was a good old Melbourne coffee. But stuck here, in Heathrow, the best I could hope for was a Starbucks large warm milk with a vague coffee flavour
Fuck it, I think to myself. I’ll just go to the bar and have a coffee and Baileys while I work out just what the fuck I am going to do.
A few sips of the hair-of-the-dog later, feeling slightly better, I look down at my bag and spot the Aussie-flag keyring, a tiny, proud beacon of nationalism. I couldn’t believe I had just missed my flight home. But, this was an adventure after all. There was another flight leaving same time tomorrow. So I checked my luggage in to the 24-hour lockers and caught the Heathrow Express to London. This could be a really stupid move, I think to myself, but it sure as hell is not going to be dull.