This must be classed as a bucket list trip; I’m off to Costa Rica, which I’ve long wanted to visit, with a couple of dragonfly hunting buddies.
My route takes me on KLM from Heathrow Terminal 4 through Amsterdam then direct to San José, Costa Rica, avoiding the pain of the US as an intermediate point. To avoid an uncomfortable 0-dark-30 start from home, both for myself and driver Francine, I booked into the Premier Inn at T4 with a convenient connecting pedestrian bridge leading directly into the terminal. Excellent. Francine kicked me out of the car and I checked in at 15:30 on Wednesday 3rd June.
Then the fun started. Trailfinders had been trying to contact me: my 08:40 KLM flight to Amsterdam had been cancelled “for operational reasons”. Bother! However, KLM had rebooked me on another flight at 08:20. OK, that’d give me a little more time for my connection in Amsterdam. The kicker was that my new flight was British Airways operating out of T5 and here I was in a hotel at T4. There are both trains and public buses operating between terminals, there being no pedestrian route, but reception threw in the little gem that there was to be industrial action in the morning. Great!
My only possibly reliable solution was the HotelHopper shuttle bus which starts running at 04:25 but would get me there nice and early for a cost of £7. I had to go for it; I set my alarm for 03:30.
Naturally I got very little sleep, punctuated by a midnight shower.
Following my alarm, I dragged myself down to the unmarked pick-up point (a kind receptionist has shown me where it was) for 04:15. The bus duly arrived and deposited me at T5 20 minutes later.
I had already checked-in online but needed a bag drop. The automated machine grumped saying that it was unable to check my bag. This just keeps getting better. I was directed by one warm body to another warm body who could check my bag. Apparently the machine can’t deal with connecting flights. Finally my bag was tagged and disappeared.
I made my way through security to the airline lounge where I was greeted by a cheery message from BA warning of a potential delay “due to inclement weather”. B******s. The glamour of travel.
After a Bloody Mary, two G&Ts and a glass of fizz, I managed to board my replacement flight which happily slotted into a gap in the adverse weather and departed on time.
45 minutes later we landed at Schiphol where I went for an orienting wander to locate my international gate, followed by locating the KLM lounge to further dilute the blood in my alcohol stream.
Time to get to the gate where I met my German travelling companion who was on the same flight; we renewed our acquaintance from a previous Australia dragonfly trip. Boarding began on time. We sat. We sat some more. The Costa Rica flight HAD bumped into the aforementioned inclement weather. At this point it wasn’t too critical, the next stop being our destination, so I waited patiently after my welcoming glass of fizz. We departed almost an hour late.
It’s an 11-hour flight from Amsterdam to San José in Costa Rica. I was pretty comfortable up front but still got no sleep, despite trying, after watching the only two movies that appealed.
We landed and breezed through immigration to wait for our bags. Eventually Herr German’s bag turned up. I continued to wait and then heard an unintelligible announcement containing my name, which I did manage to pick out. Sinking-feeling-in-stomach time.
I was in Costa Rica but my bag was apparently still in Amsterdam. They’d had over two hours to get it loaded on the plane and failed. I filled in a lost baggage form providing our first night’s Costa Rica address but we’d be there for only one night. No, I didn’t know where we’d be moving on to. Our leader knows but he’s waiting outside the baggage hall. I gave them Mr. Leader’s email address as well. I was given KLM contact details and then exited the terminal to rejoice with Mr. Leader and Herr German.
I’ve got my carry-on camera bag containing one spare pair of underpants but precious little else.
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