I’m still in London. It was meant to be a stopover on the trip to Rome—a quick hour and a half to get out of one plane and into another. Except the first plane didn’t let us out for an hour after landing, so we never made it to the second one. What has followed is a dystopic hellscape of a day. We’ve been on standby for every single flight to Rome, yet according to them, we’ve been taken off of standby by the time we reach the gate. There’s one more flight tonight and we supposedly have regular tickets. That will get us to Rome just before midnight. We landed in London at 9:20 AM. In short, we’ve been in transit for days now and with me lacking sleep, I’m about to crack and start yelling at people to fix this crap.
Only nobody cares. Not a single British Airways worker. We’re just caught in a machine that nobody maintains. While these people do their jobs they are forced to deal with us up till the point where they decide not to and legitimately tell us to go away. There is not anywhere to go that doesn’t cost us money. We are stuck in this hellscape, tired and pitted against the world. Romantic, isn’t it? I am sure we will reflect in that fashion at another time, but for now the anger is righteous and it is bright.
I don’t know what time it is where ever in the world you find yourself reading this, but consider this: An airline is only successful if it keeps customers. Maybe one day I will have the platform to convince people to speak their truths and their horrors dealing with BA specifically, and Heathrow in general. I’m looking forward to it.