Am back from 2 day jaunt to Spain. Had a fantastic time, eating, drinking, sunbathing, swimming, lovely family members and a great time was had by all. I did however cry at Malaga Airport - twice. I had to get up on Tuesday at 3.15am to get my 7.50 flight from Gatwick so when I arrived at Malaga and there was nobody there to meet me I regressed to 4 year old child and after waiting for 35 minutes and feeling abandoned I started to cry. My Mobile phone wouldn't work and I couldn't contact anybody....and because I'm a bit emotional when over tired...anyway eventually Mike picked me up and then I was alright again.
Today, upon attempting to leave the airport to fly home, one of the teenage kids I was accompanying had a problem with his passport and wasn't allowed through passport control. I had already gone through and was about to board the aircraft when I got the message that there was a problem. I had to run back only to find that he was being carted off to immigration!!! The man who was doing the carting didn't speak any English!!! I ran after them demanding to know what the problem was and found myself in small police station with 4 police officers and the teenage boy!
The police officers were all wearing guns (yikes) and were like extras from a very bad south american drug running movie (think 'Midnight Express'). To say that I was a bit concerned would be an understatement. Of course - because I didn't think (I never do) and I was annoyed (I often am) I started shouting at them and 'demanding' an explanation. Obviously that didn't go down too well (none of them spoke English and all they could see was this mad small woman screaming and frothing at the mouth) and one of them started pushing me around. Being really stupid, the next thing I did was light a fag. Cut to the next scene which includes very small room, me, the boy, a guard and jail-type door and bars on windows!!!! Can you imagine? It was at this point where I cried at Malaga Airport for the second time in three days!!!
Luckily my mobie phone had a signal, I called the office and one of our directors who speaks Spanish was able to talk to the head honcho and find out that there was a block on his passport to prevent him being taken from Spain unless he had one of his parents with him.
Eventually somebody from the house came to pick him up - but until they did we weren't allowed to leave. When I say we weren't allowed to leave - I actually mean that for over an hour we were kept there against our will, not given anything to eat or drink, and kept being shouted at by the guards!!! I had by then missed my flight, so I was booked onto another one 2 hours later. Unfortunately (!) there were only business class seats left - so a few minutes later I found myself sitting in the 'club' lounge eating breakfast opposite Rick Parfitt of Status Quo!!! (who, in case you're interested looks fantastic for his age!) Talk about going from the sublime to the ridiculous.
I finally got home about 4pm - which was a huge relief because a few times during this debacle I had visions of ending up in some Spanish jail for eternity being used as a plaything for some big hispanic drug running momma!!!
It's funny now - but at the time I don't mind admitting that I was crapping my pants.
So I've decided I don't really like Malaga Airport, I do however, like flying business class - despite being by far the scruffiest looking passenger that BA have probably ever had. You get a huge comfy seat, pillows and blankets, free drinks, and a proper meal, on a proper plate with a proper knife and fork!!!
It could only happen to me.
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