South of France is famous for its fine wine and delicious food. I recently had chance travelling to Aix near Marseille for business. It's nice to travel around world, which provides opportunities to visit different places, learn different cultures, meet real people who you may have talked over the phone or exchanged messages over E-mails. However, travels can sometimes bring you distress and troubles as well.
After a successful day of auditing the customer's product, several of us went to town centre for dinner. I ordered grilled duck breast for the main course and the local red wine to go with it. The duck was cooked just right - tender and juicy, and the wine was smoky and fruity. During the meal, to my surprise, a text message from British Airways informed me that my next day's 9:00pm flight from Marseille to London Heathrow was cancelled, but the text didn't give any further information except asked me to visit British Airways' website or call their help-line.
Although the text message didn't stop my enjoying the dinner, I had to get more information to sort this matter out after the dinner. It was a pity that I couldn't spend more time on exploring the beautiful town centre.
Back to the hotel, I checked my flight on Internet. It only indicated that the 9:00pm flight was cancelled with no reason given but offered to re-book another earlier 5:00pm flight. This flight wasn't ideal because it would make my next day's arrangement very tight, especially by taking into account of having lunch with the customer.
It is notorious that the industrial strikers in Marseille do not keep their words. My flight might be subject to further disturbance. I learned this from the customer's programme manager. Undeterred, I accelerated my scheduled plan and wrapped up the day's work a little bit earlier to catch the flight. Coincidentally, the customer's certification manager from Scotland, where I lived for about 15 years, was to catch his flight to Amsterdam about the same time of mine. We shared the same taxi and had a nice, kind of nostalgic, chat about bonnie Scotland.
After passing through the airport security, I hastened to the boarding gate. As soon as I got there, however, I was disappointed - the flight was delayed by one and a half hours. Well, nothing I could do and I went to the bar to have a quick snack. When I got back, the information displayed that the flight was further delayed by another half an hour and advised that further delay might be likely.
The uncertainty did make me a little bit anxious, but it was out of my control. I found myself a seat and started to read a book. When I was deep into the book, the captain suddenly made an announcement to require all the passengers to board the aircraft to chance the nearest take-off slot. He further explained to the passengers that the slot was not guaranteed but he had to have everyone boarded, have the aircraft's doors shut, and make the it ready to take off. In this way, the on-strike air controllers would have to prioritise the flight over other unready flights. However, he also warned all the passengers that should the effort fail everyone might have to wait for another take-off slot by staying inside the aircraft for another two hours. It sounded depressing but no one had a choice but to board.
With good luck, the captain succeeded and the aircraft took off in the nearest slot. The flight was great and it landed at Heathrow Terminal 1 perfectly.
After going through the UK passport control, I headed to the exit to meet my taxi driver. My employer contracts a local chauffeur company to pick up travelling employees. I expected a formally suited driver greeting me with a billboard of my name in hand. However, I was shocked to be met by a uniformed UK Board Agency officer. "What's the hell going on?", I wondered. I'd settled in UK for nearly 20 years and I didn't expect to get involved with any immigration matter. Bewildered, I told him that I was the person of the name on the billboard. To my surprise, he said hello to me very friendly but told me that my driver was crashed and injured. He was here to inform me the accident.
The officer didn't say too much but led me to a paramedic who explained to me that the driver actually tripped in the waiting hall and injured himself. I asked whether the injury was serious. She didn't give me a directly answer but told me that the paramedics were checking the driver and would let me know as soon as possible. She advised me to take a seat and wait, and assured me that it wouldn't take too long.
My delight of having the good luck of leaving Marseille with the delayed flight was diminished by this unexpected drama. I waited and started to read again. "Never mind. That's life. It's London anyway, and I can always can find a way out." I told myself.
Not too long, a limped gentleman, wearing suit and tie, was led to me by the paramedic. She told me that he was my driver. He had a bandage patched on his right-side of forehead, with bloody stains around. Poor guy, he didn't look very well and seemed confused. I wasn't sure whether he was fit for driving me home. I asked him to have a rest by offering to buy him a coffee. He politely declined and insisted that he was fine to drive.
Looking him in such a status, I loaded luggage myself to give him some help. On the way out of the car park, he drove wobbly and hit the curb - caused the car a sudden sway and gave me a fright. It appeared that his fall hurt his left elbow as well. He drove cautiously on the motorway.
During his driving, he kept wiping his forehead with a piece of tissue and I could see his blood on it. He was bleeding all the way.
I sat back seat quietly and kept my fingers crossed. At last, the driver made me home safely. Thank god! What an eventful trip!
