Aeroplane come back! YOU HAVE OUR ALCOHOL

I seem to be doing a lot of running this year. Literally and figuratively.

Now I’m not going to go into all ‘woe is me, my life is not turning out in the way I pictured it’ by boring you with the details on the figurative part. But in the literal, hyperventilating sense, I have been doing some running for these weddings. Strangely enough it’s always in busy, public places. First it was dodging past the elderly at Victoria train station. Most recently it was bolting it through Amsterdam airport.

Trust me to leave two bottles of alcohol underneath my airplane seat. Trust me to wait until after the long trek across the airport, down one floor and through passport control that the delayed light bulb finally comes on in my head (I must be energy saving, you know the one that takes a while before reaching full voltage) and I think “The alcohol!”

Cue Gill and I on a mission. Ignoring the no entry signs and charming the man at passport control (the tiaras clearly being the selling point) we went through security checkpoint and ran. Oh did we run!

Amsterdam airport is inconveniently spread out during such times of desperation. We ran past one man who asked, “You vant vater?” and a group of guys who yelled, “faster! Faster.” Now because we had spectators, the last thing I wanted to do was stop. So despite the stitch, the gasping for oxygen and seeing the reflection of my dishevelled self, I kept on running. My high school sports teacher would ever be so proud because if you truly knew me, you would know that running and me are not a match made in Heaven. So it is amazing just what lengths I am prepared to put myself through for the sake of vodka and Malibu.

Looking back I’m thankful I had Gill was with me because that girl has unbelievable perseverance. We saw the orange easyjet plane and ran to the nearest gate. There was a big no entry sign and where I would have admitted defeat and turned back, Gill ignored it and went down the stairs. Then we came to a security door with an activated alarm. Had we pushed through it and got onto the tarmac, well you can hear the alarms, picture the airport on lockdown and inevitably me and Gill getting arrested.

All we could do was wave our arms hoping to get someone’s attention. The pilot had a look of both anger and confusion. We made our case with the ground officer through the door. But suffice to say, after all our efforts at the final hurdle all we could do is stop and watch the plane fly off – with our alcohol. All of this drama and we had not even left the airport.

So apart from achy legs, what did I get from this experience? Now more than ever, I know that in the heat of the moment, if needs be, I can run. With a lot of help from my friend called adrenaline that is. I’ve run away from muggers in South Africa and I’ve run like crazy with all the hope that I can get to an aeroplane in time. On this occasion at the time I was proud that I did it but now, I think for the sake of alcohol? What a dumbass!