HOW TO TRAVEL FRIDA- STYLE
After the London riots (some of them taking place around the corner from where I live(d)) I was quite keen on leaving London. It's just not a good thing when your friends call and say "Frida I'm watching BBC and I'm quite sure that your street is on fire... Oooh! I can see your house!!" That together with my neighbours being visited by the special forces in the middle of the night (that and many other apartments in the area in a massive raid) to arrest gang leaders really made me feel like I needed a break.
Happy that I'd managed to squeeze everything into my baga I left for Heathrow very very early, just to make sure that nothing would go wrong, especially with all the things going on in London at the moment.
Ahh. I was so proud of myself. I took the bus to King's Cross and went down the tube from there so I wouldn't have to lift my 23 kg+ 14 kg+ 7 kg bags down too many stairs. Two stops from Heathrow the train changed destination to Terminal 4, but I felt perfectly fine as I had about 3,5 hours until my flight (plenty of time for tax free shopping). I shook my head at a family next to me that had two babies and had 20 minutes to their flight, screaming at each other and staff for the train having changed destination. Oh dear. Why don't people plan? *Smug.* I reach the Terminal.
And THEN.
I see the tear at the bottom of my suitcase. A hole straight in to all my things.
Oh noooo.
So I do the only logical thing. I start e- mailing Alex at work. (I know. Completely illogical. Exactly WHAT is my boyfriend, currently in the US, going to do about my broken suitcase?) I come up with the idea of buying thick brown tape. Alex approves. Right. So I start putting lots of tape over the tear. I go up to the bagdrop lady and ask her whether she thinks it's enough or whether I should wrap it more. She says it's up to me to decide. (In the past few years, I've learnt that that's what people say when they don't wanna be liable for any damage. So I start putting more tape on.) Alex texts. "If I were you I'd wrap the whole thing." "Really? are you sure?" "Yeah go for it." Hmm. Ok. I start wrapping my neon- pink bag in the brown tape. Round, and round, and round.... Alex rings. "Hey, I'm on my break. How's it going?" "Yeah I'm still wrapping it." "What do you mean?" "Well you told me to wrap it." *Silence* "Frida where are you?" "Next to the bagdrop!" "Oh my God. Are you wrapping the whole bag in brown tape??" "Yes?" "You know, there are places that can put your whole bag in plastic for you... That's kind of what I meant."
OH.
"Well then why didn't you say that???" I can hear the very familiar sound of Alex trying very hard not to laugh at me because he knows I'll turn into some hystrical angry squirrel if he does. "Well I think that you knew that it'd be a bit annoying to wrap the whole thing in tape...?"
Right. No harm done. At least the bag is secure.
After having learnt that my bag is also 0.6 kg overweight I throw a wine bottle at the airport (have to open the tape a bit first...) and head for security where they look suspiciously at my handluggage as I try to show how light it is (while really it's definitely not) by easily swinging it onto the band, only to stretch my back. I get through and get a text from mum. "Remember to buy the 6 bottles!" Right. Due to the alcohol monopoly which almost makes it impossible to even buy a bottle of wine in Sweden my mum has ordered 2 bottles of Bailey's, 1 bottle of gin, 1 bottle of vodka and 2 bottles of martini. The funny thing about all this is that my mum drinks about 2 times per year. Max. I text her and explain that that'll be impossible to carry since I have to carry 2 handluggages and some food and stuff that my sister wants. Can I buy 3? "You promised me! In that case you can take the bus from Gothenburg!" Right. I decide to buy 3 anyway since it isn't really a matter of choice.
Practically dragging my bags on the ground towards my gate, I just about manage to get onto the plane, "easily" lift the bags over my head (this time I stretch my abs. Yes, seriously. I didn't even think that that was really possible...!") And sit down, panting in my chair. Soon I'm joined by two English guys who start talking about how many Swedish girls they're gonna have sex with in Gothenburg (sorry guys, you don't have what it takes...) and open their duty free alcohol bottles taking shots.
We're informed that there's a technical problem with the plane. We end up waiting an hour on the plane, then have to change because it cannot be fixed. There is a family in front of me that have 3 children that are 0- 3 years. They all scream constantly. We have to go back onto the terminal (drag bags over the floor again), to a different gate, onto a bus, 10 mins travel, onto the next plane. Children still screaming. We land in Gothenburg. I get my brown- taped bag and am greeted by mum, my sister and grandma. Mum says she cannot believe that I only got 3 bottles. I tell her to carry just my backpack and she can't quite get it on her back. But she says that that's irrelevant because she's carried all my skiis and other things since I was born, and I should be able to carry this extra thing just one time. And when we come home I really should take a shower.
Lessons learned from the flight experience:
1. Never buy suitcases from PRIMARK. Even if they're pretty.
2. Don't text your boyfriend "There's something wrong with my plane, am I going to die?" when he's at work. He'll get worried.
3. Don't promise mummy Eva anything.
Happy that I'd managed to squeeze everything into my baga I left for Heathrow very very early, just to make sure that nothing would go wrong, especially with all the things going on in London at the moment.
Ahh. I was so proud of myself. I took the bus to King's Cross and went down the tube from there so I wouldn't have to lift my 23 kg+ 14 kg+ 7 kg bags down too many stairs. Two stops from Heathrow the train changed destination to Terminal 4, but I felt perfectly fine as I had about 3,5 hours until my flight (plenty of time for tax free shopping). I shook my head at a family next to me that had two babies and had 20 minutes to their flight, screaming at each other and staff for the train having changed destination. Oh dear. Why don't people plan? *Smug.* I reach the Terminal.
And THEN.
I see the tear at the bottom of my suitcase. A hole straight in to all my things.
Oh noooo.
So I do the only logical thing. I start e- mailing Alex at work. (I know. Completely illogical. Exactly WHAT is my boyfriend, currently in the US, going to do about my broken suitcase?) I come up with the idea of buying thick brown tape. Alex approves. Right. So I start putting lots of tape over the tear. I go up to the bagdrop lady and ask her whether she thinks it's enough or whether I should wrap it more. She says it's up to me to decide. (In the past few years, I've learnt that that's what people say when they don't wanna be liable for any damage. So I start putting more tape on.) Alex texts. "If I were you I'd wrap the whole thing." "Really? are you sure?" "Yeah go for it." Hmm. Ok. I start wrapping my neon- pink bag in the brown tape. Round, and round, and round.... Alex rings. "Hey, I'm on my break. How's it going?" "Yeah I'm still wrapping it." "What do you mean?" "Well you told me to wrap it." *Silence* "Frida where are you?" "Next to the bagdrop!" "Oh my God. Are you wrapping the whole bag in brown tape??" "Yes?" "You know, there are places that can put your whole bag in plastic for you... That's kind of what I meant."
OH.
"Well then why didn't you say that???" I can hear the very familiar sound of Alex trying very hard not to laugh at me because he knows I'll turn into some hystrical angry squirrel if he does. "Well I think that you knew that it'd be a bit annoying to wrap the whole thing in tape...?"
Right. No harm done. At least the bag is secure.
After having learnt that my bag is also 0.6 kg overweight I throw a wine bottle at the airport (have to open the tape a bit first...) and head for security where they look suspiciously at my handluggage as I try to show how light it is (while really it's definitely not) by easily swinging it onto the band, only to stretch my back. I get through and get a text from mum. "Remember to buy the 6 bottles!" Right. Due to the alcohol monopoly which almost makes it impossible to even buy a bottle of wine in Sweden my mum has ordered 2 bottles of Bailey's, 1 bottle of gin, 1 bottle of vodka and 2 bottles of martini. The funny thing about all this is that my mum drinks about 2 times per year. Max. I text her and explain that that'll be impossible to carry since I have to carry 2 handluggages and some food and stuff that my sister wants. Can I buy 3? "You promised me! In that case you can take the bus from Gothenburg!" Right. I decide to buy 3 anyway since it isn't really a matter of choice.
Practically dragging my bags on the ground towards my gate, I just about manage to get onto the plane, "easily" lift the bags over my head (this time I stretch my abs. Yes, seriously. I didn't even think that that was really possible...!") And sit down, panting in my chair. Soon I'm joined by two English guys who start talking about how many Swedish girls they're gonna have sex with in Gothenburg (sorry guys, you don't have what it takes...) and open their duty free alcohol bottles taking shots.
We're informed that there's a technical problem with the plane. We end up waiting an hour on the plane, then have to change because it cannot be fixed. There is a family in front of me that have 3 children that are 0- 3 years. They all scream constantly. We have to go back onto the terminal (drag bags over the floor again), to a different gate, onto a bus, 10 mins travel, onto the next plane. Children still screaming. We land in Gothenburg. I get my brown- taped bag and am greeted by mum, my sister and grandma. Mum says she cannot believe that I only got 3 bottles. I tell her to carry just my backpack and she can't quite get it on her back. But she says that that's irrelevant because she's carried all my skiis and other things since I was born, and I should be able to carry this extra thing just one time. And when we come home I really should take a shower.
Lessons learned from the flight experience:
1. Never buy suitcases from PRIMARK. Even if they're pretty.
2. Don't text your boyfriend "There's something wrong with my plane, am I going to die?" when he's at work. He'll get worried.
3. Don't promise mummy Eva anything.
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