In Which Nigel Gets So Close To Sainthood It Is Not F***ing Funny

OK, here we go again. I’ll keep saving this time. If it doesn’t work God does not want me to tell you this story.

So as you know I lost my luggage. Here then is the story of that fateful Saturday and really, truly, what I went through.

OK so first thing you need to remember is …. still sick. Seriously that guy did a number on me and have another blog in me about how ill I am as I think I may have turned into the walking dead and they forgot to tell me. For the moment, just know that I cannot walk anywhere without sweating buckets. There’s more but it can wait.

We are catching the bus from Disneyland Paris Hotel to Charles De Gaulle Airport at 2 pm on Saturday. As my parents are rapidly aging before my eyes, this means, in their mind, that we have to be there an hour early so as not to miss the bus. Thus it is my parents are at the Disneyland Hotel waiting for the 2 pm bus at 1pm. Even the bag carriers at Disneyland are confused as to why they are there and come out and ask them if they want their bags moved yet.  The porters look confused when you say your bus isn’t there for an hour.

Eventually the bus does arrive and takes us for the 90 minute trip to Charles De Gaulle. When we get there the driver, who happens to be Asian and doesn’t speak English or French successfully, leaves all the customers to get their luggage from the hold. It is a free for all. It is conceivable at this point someone took my luggage here. Now my father is getting the luggage from the hold. Why am I not doing this? My parents have propped their luggage smack bang in the centre of the entrance to the airport and are being abused by the French. Probably a good thing not to know French at this point. I’m moving the luggage from the doorway as the luggage is pulled off. We pile the luggage on the trolley and there is too much for the one trolley and it all collapses onto the floor. So we’re distracted and there is no actual recognition that my bag is missing yet.

I am drenched in sweat and decide on the long walk to the British Airways desk that I need to clean myself up in the toilet. I go to the toilet for big jobs when a tidal wave of diarrhea comes spilling under the cubicle next door. There comes a French voice from next door apologising, I presume, but I could not question him as to why he was unable to use the bowl. Instead I skeedaddle holding my breath before the tide hits my feet.

We get to the checking for British Airways and the check in lady requests that we show her our hand luggage. THEN we realise the bag is missing. And then it all kicks off.

My Dad immediately becomes “sick”. Certainly while it was my Dad not getting the case from the hold that caused this, I don’t blame him for the loss of luggage. Even if it wasnt for the fact that the bus driver should have been getting everyone’s luggage, it was a mistake. An annoying mistake that has impacted severely on me but a mistake nevertheless. Certainly I was annoyed but not angry that the bag had been misplaced. However Dad decides at this point that he is ill.  When my Dad is ill he speaks…. really…. slowly….. and…… sounds…….. as…… though…… it…… is….. a….. struggle….. to……. speak.

This is not annoying AT ALL. So we try to sort out my Dad at the same time as somehow work out how to contact the bus company and get the bag back.  My Dad sits down and recovers (not quite sure from what) while I try to work out the phone systems in France.  My mother goes off to try to find the bus company details.  I honestly was doing the phones ok as the phone insturctions were in both languages however, for some reason, I could not get the phones to work. Not even close.

Dad…… is……ok…. and the plane is beginning to board. I go off to find my mother who has disappeared off the face of the earth.  I am running through the airport trying to find her or an intercom system that could contact her.  By this time, as you will recall, Charles De Gaulle Airport is VERY long indeed and I am swimming in sweat. After about twenty minutes of searching I find my mother who has gotten a phone number off someone where I can contact the bus company. The number is 17 digits long. I have no idea which country I would be ringing if I used it. I did know that the country code was not France at the very least.

So we make a plan to contact the bus company once we are in the London. We go to the plane and Dad…. is……still….. really….. sick…. and so I am carrying the luggage. We get to the plane and the air stewardess welcomes my Dad onto the plane.  My Dad immediately recovers and, normal voice, thanks her and bounds down the aisle.

At which point I could kill him.

My computer was dying and I had no way of recharging it.  I wrote the entry that upset everyone at the end of that day. I tried to  use the hotel television internet to keep in contact but it was insanely annoying. It would take me fifteen minutes to write a sentence. I was going to kick the television in. I bought the cord for my computer when it became clear I was not going to find my case.

The problem with this situation is that it is the gift that keeps on keeping on. I know my Dad is not to blame however he couldn’t have shafted me more if he tried.

In my case was

500 GBP

400 USD

300 AUD

my camera (and data card… that really annoys me)

My laptop power cable

My iPhone power cable

My Mobile phone power cable

My bitching jacket (arrrggh)

My Electric toothbrush

A mug from Disneyland Paris

five packets of tim tams

2 packets of licorice bullets

Trey’s laptop bag

My receipts for the trip thus far

My professional tourist trap photos of me at Disneyland

Tragically there is probably more but the joy of losing stuff is remembering bits you’ve lost as you go along.  So it can be annoying one more time.

And so my stay in London was a complete loss. I spent the time in my hotel room charging up huge bills to try to contact both Disneyland Paris and the VEA bus company. Waiting for people to call back who didn’t. I managed to go to The Mousetrap and the Doctor Who exhibition but that was it. I’ve checked the insurance policy and there is a clause they wont cover computer/ camera gear lost in the cargo hold of transport. I’m not sure if they will cover this at all.

I’ve contacted the Bus company for their loss of content policies and havent heard anything yet nor do I suppose I will. I will battle with the insurance company. I have spent my time trying to replace items, such as the phone and computer power cords. It’s all been a big pain in the arse really.

I would suggest people do not use the VEA bus company should they travel from or to Disneyland Paris or the airport. The company was, in my opinion, incompetent in addressing this issue. I lost the case on Saturday. I wasn’t informed that they could not find it until Wednesday. I remain waiting for response to my request for clarification of their missing items policy.

Ah well, not to worry. Things are replaced and no one was hurt. I am just over it. One more in a long round of being shafted. Oh well. Tomorrow the Doctor Who Exhibition which will be far more jolly.

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