Sat stuck in traffic for an hour on the M25 the other day took me back to an almost-holiday-disaster the first time we went to Jamaica, about ten years ago. We had lunchtime or early afternoon flights - can't remember which but, either way, they were late enough that we didn't think it was worth getting an overnight hotel package. However, airport parking for two weeks was expensive, and not such good value without a hotel, so when friends offered us a lift to the airport, it was the perfect solution. They were already heading in that direction to visit family who lived near Heathrow - we just needed to get the train home. We left plenty of time - they normally advise you to check in three hours ahead of a long-haul flight, and we'd given ourselves more than enough time (or so we thought) for the under-two-hour drive to Heathrow. But then we came to a standstill. It wasn't the crawling kind of jam you get when there's roadworks or just due to the sheer weight of traffic - this was the not-moving-anywhere kind of jam that you know is down to an accident. We later found out that someone had jumped off a bridge - horrible. All we knew at this point, though, was that we had flights to catch, we weren't moving, and I was starting to need the loo. The worst thing about those kind of jams is that you really have no idea how long you're going to be stuck. At least with roadworks, you know you'll get through eventually. With this, on the other hand, we didn't know what had happened, when it had happened or how long before the road was cleared. I remember sitting for a couple of hours on a dual carriageway more recently, when eventually we all had to do U-turns and drive the wrong way to the nearest exit. And I've only just heard about the jam on the M26 last week, when the road was closed for four hours, and people were walking their dogs on the motorway. In the meantime, there we were, not knowing what was happening, panicking about our flights and needing the toilet more and more each second. Of course, this was in the days before iPhones and mobile internet, so we didn't have any way of finding out any information. If I'd known how long we were going to be stuck, I'd have got out of the car and gone for a wee by the side of the road, but the thought of the car driving off while I stood on the hard shoulder with my knickers round my ankles was enough to stop me...! After a while, we started to realise there was a very good chance of us missing our flights. I was reading through all our insurance details, trying to find out if we'd be covered - it didn't look like it. And what would we do? Could we reschedule our holiday? Could we get later flights? Would it be worth it? Just how much money were we going to lose? And how much longer could I last before wetting myself or taking the plunge with the hard shoulder? I could probably have lasted hours if there'd been a toilet nearby but the very fact that I couldn't go made me want it all the more...
I don't know how long we sat there in the end. My distorted memory says at least two hours, but it was probably nowhere near that. Suffice to say, though, that it was too long, and had us convinced we'd missed our flights. We started moving eventually, of course, and when we pulled up at Heathrow, we dragged our cases out of the car and ran, barely having time to say goodbye and thank you (nor thinking about how we'd get home if we had missed the flights). We couldn't fault the airport staff, at least - we weren't familiar with Heathrow, and had no idea where to go to check in, but a nice man saw us panicking and directed us to the right check-in desk. It had to be the first (and only) time we've got to the desk and there's been no queue. But the lovely lady there reassured us that we hadn't missed the flight, and that loads of people had been delayed due to the traffic jam, so we didn't need to worry. Phew! I was nearly in tears by this point, mostly due to my excruciating need for the toilet. I think my bobbing up and down must have given me away, because the check-in lady pointed out the toilets for me and refused to check us in until I'd been!
I can't remember much about the queue for security, once we'd finally checked in. But I do remember the sheer panic when we got through to the departure lounge and the screen told us to proceed immediately to the gate. Unimpeded by our cases, we ran along the moving walkways for the full ten minutes it took us to get to the furthest gate possible. We arrived at the gate to find it was empty. More panic - was everyone on the plane already? Would we have to face the embarrassment of walking through the plane to find our seats while everyone else sits there tutting and looking at their watches? Would we even be allowed to board? Just as we were looking around for someone to ask, another couple walked into the departure gate - phew, at least we weren't the only ones late. Then another couple, then a family, then more people. Soon, the departure lounge was full up. Basically, we'd got to the departure lounge just as the screen had shown the gate number. We'd probably been the first to see it - add this to our mad run to the departure gate, and we beat everyone else to it. We were actually EARLY.
So what did we learn? Mostly that an airport hotel is always a good idea. Even if the flight isn't until lunchtime or later, driving up the night before takes away any panic about traffic delays. At least if you get stuck in a jam, you have all night to get there!
