My journey home

My journey home was an eight-leg marathon that took almost twenty hours: a coach from Kitchener; two subways to the end of the line in Toronto; the Rocket bus to Pearson Airport; a flight to Dublin; a flight to Bristol; a local bus to Churchill and a two mile walk to the farm.

I was glad I took an early coach out of Kitchener; usually it takes 1.5 hours to reach Union Station, but because the highway was chock-a-block due to road works, the driver took several detours along back roads to avoid the gridlock.

Once in Toronto, I made good time as I made my way across town and reached the airport with plenty of time to spare. I found a Subway and enjoyed a tasty egg salad flat bread sandwich before heading through security to airside. Thankfully Toronto airport offers free wifi; between checking out the goodies in the duty-free shop, going on line, and walking around to get some exercise before the flight, I whiled away the hours until we boarded.

Luckily the plane wasn't full and there was a spare seat between me and the young woman on the aisle. Until we rolled out of the bay, both she and I were busy on our iPhones. At the announcement to turn off all electronic devices, I put my phone away. But the woman was chatting on her phone even as we taxied to the runway. The stewardess, making her final check for takeoff, cautioned my row-mate to turn off her phone. However, once the stewardess headed on up the aisle, the gal continued to chat. I kept glancing over at her and finally she ended the call, only to start texting!

Finally I lost patience and asked her to turn off her phone, to which she replied that she flies all the time (indicating that she knew the ropes better than I did); she also informed me that she wanted to stay safe as much as I did. However, she did put her phone away, although when shortly afterwards she headed to the toilet with her purse, I wondered if she was still at it. Oh well, there will always be one or two people who think the rules don't apply to them.

Once on the ground at Dublin I hurried along, following the 'Connections' signs along many corridors. I had envisioned buying a cup of tea (there were no hot drinks on my main flight due to an unusual amount of turbulence) and even finding a washroom. But that didn't happen; with so little time to spare, I was advised to jump the long queue at security (yes, yet another check -- iPhone, iPad and bag of liquids into the tray -- even though I hadn't been anywhere other than airside).

Finally through, I quickly checked the board, noted the gate number (111) and hurried along the moving walkways. That's when I discovered there were two flights to Bristol, and this wasn't mine. Actually I panicked. It was 6:05 and according to my boarding pass, my actual gate was due to close at 6:10. As I ran past the next board, I realized that to reach the right gate I would need to retrace my steps to the security checkpoint from whence I had started and traverse yet more walkways to reach gate 333. But since it took ten minutes to backtrack, by then it was 6:15. I truly despaired that I had missed my flight and hoped I would be allowed to board the next plane, although that scenario would mean a six hour wait.

Still hoping for a miracle, hot and bothered and out of breath, I found the gate and was relieved to see a lineup for boarding. I thought I'd made it until I glanced up at the information board. The passengers were in line for a different flight, and on the board next to my flight number were the words, in red, 'LAST CALL'. 

'Excuse me, pardon me,' I called out as I pushed my way to the front of the queue and explained that my plane from Toronto was a little late in, and I'd gone to the wrong gate. The agent told me I had been paged several times (none of which I'd heard on my trek) and that I had missed the flight. However, she made a call to the crew, and I waited for a few heartstopping moments until she nodded, hung up and told me they had not yet closed the doors and would wait for me! PHEW! I stepped aside to wait for a driver and in five minutes was in a car speeding across the tarmac. I never ever want to cut things so fine again!

Within fifty minutes we landed in Bristol and I bought a much needed coffee; now I had more than an hour's wait for the bus that would take me within walking distance of the farm. At that point I could have phoned my girlfriend and asked her to pick me up; the offer was there. But before I left Angi's I had decided to make the whole trip under my own steam, simply to prove that I could. And I did -- almost. By then it was raining, but I had no choice but to keep walking until -- another miracle of miracles -- a pickup truck, driven by a familiar local farmer, came to a stop beside me.

'You want a lift to the farm, love?'

'Yes please,' I answered without a moment's hesitation. I'd almost made it home without any help, but after all, it was raining...

Then came the fun part of my homecoming. The wheels of my suitcase made a whirring sound as they rolled over the cracks on the path leading to the back door of the farmhouse. I heard Chris (one of my farm brothers) mutter to himself as he heard the strange noise. By then I was standing in the kitchen doorway, grinning like a Cheshire cat and enjoying the look of absolute surprise on his face. The reaction of Allan (my other farm brother) was the same when I found him in the living room.

I had made it, and my arrival was the surprise I'd planned. :)