Love Actually Smiles

 

I worry and panic whenever I have to do anything involving airports. I had to pick up the now ex-teenager and his girlfriend from East Midlands Airport. This airport was about fifty-five miles away just off the M1 motorway.

In my head all I wanted to do was to drive to the arrivals building early, park the car, go inside the building, watch their plane land, and then meet and greet them, but I knew that anything as simple as that would not be possible.

I spent hours studying websites.

It seems that parking even for just a few minutes was going to be very expensive.

Eventually, I discovered information about ‘Shuttle Plus’ (one hour’s parking for free) as well as information about the short stay car park (£2 for 30 mins and then steep incremental rises.)

Booking in advance web pages were quoting ‘cheapest prices’ of over fifteen pounds for just one hour’s parking. “Cheapest Parking!” these web sites proclaimed. Yeah, I thought.

I am a coward by nature. The Shuttle Plus parking looked like a possibility, but the buses ran every fifteen minutes, and then the journey back to the terminal took an extra six minutes. Already after doing advanced calculus I’d worked out that in the worst case scenario I’d only have an eighteen minute window in which to meet and greet before the steeper charges kicked in.

It seemed it might be safer to go for the short term parking after all, and simply pay.

However, on my arrival a tiny bit of me that is still brave decided to give the ‘Shuttle Plus’ car parking experience a try.

I’d already read that the car park signs might be misleading as some old signs have yet to be replaced. So I was luckily able to make turns towards ‘car park 6’ whenever the Shuttle Plus signs were absent.

It was a longer journey than I’d expected past all the other car parks, and I was quite frightened when after travelling down this quite a long road I eventually came to a cluster of car parks.

I knew which direction to turn as I’d already studied the maps.

I got my ticket and the barrier lifted. My car park was only a quarter full and felt quite distant and lonely. Not knowing where the bus stops were I opted to park close to the other cars.

I had already read that you had to take your ticket with you for the other car parks so I guessed that this would probably be the same for this one.

The wait at the bus stop was thankfully only a few minutes, but it felt so much longer.

The bus then trundled back along the road I’d come at a steady unhurried pace as my heart raced.

The surprise being that at the Departure Terminal the bus driver told everyone to get off. It seems that the bus went no further. It seems that those destined for ‘Arrivals’ had to walk. There had been no mention of this on the web sites.

The bus driver then said something incomprehensible about where to find the bus on the way back, and when I asked him to repeat this garbled information it still made little sense.

It was quite a walk to the Arrival’s Terminal. All the time I was worrying about the time allowed and also I was now worried about where to find the return bus.

I like to get to places in good time so this was all very stressful for me.

Earlier that afternoon, I’d forced myself leave home without allowing for traffic jams or any other such problems on the roads. So I had arrived in the car park three minutes after their plane should have landed; when usually, I would have liked to have been there at least half an hour before their plane landed.

In the arrivals hall I eventually located a screen, and discovered with dismay that their flight had landed nine minutes late. Nine minutes isn’t much, but when you have so few minutes in credit in the Shuttle Plus car park it is an eternity.

My mind whirled with this new information. I did the maths. Late wasn’t good. This meant my car parking situation was under even more stress. How long would it take for them to get off the plane and then through customs. What if they got stopped?

A baby crying nearby didn’t help much either; especially since his parents were too busy playing with their mobile phones to pick up and cuddle him. He cried and cried, just as I was doing inwardly.

So I was greatly relieved when I saw my passengers and could rush and hug them.

In  the film ‘Love Actually’ there is a touching scene when people are shown greeting other people at an airport with huge smiles and hugs. This is described as ‘love’. I disagree. I think such smiles are actually looks of relief because now the meeter and greeter knows they have a fighting chance of getting back to the car park in time just before the higher charges kick in.

Outside the terminal, I searched for the shuttle bus bay.

I couldn’t find it.

In a panic I eventually went inside the car parking offices to ask.

The chap inside said something totally incomprehensible, but luckily the passenger he was helping kindly took me to the door and pointed the way. He understood my terror.

The Shuttle Plus bus bay was hidden around a blind corner of the Arrival’s building on the left hand side as you exited. I’d turned right when I should have turned left.

There was of course no bus waiting , and a long queue of people.

We waited.

Time ticking.

Eventually the bus turned up.

It took an age for these people to board. The woman in front of me having little idea about how to simply place her back down in a space ,and then sit down. She stood blocking the aisle moving with infinite slowness as if executing the ballet of placing a suitcase in the right space.

She had two small boys with her who were also slow to take to their seats they stood in the aisle blocking the way forward watching her performance and ignoring her instructions for them to, “Sit down”.

Time ticking.

Then the bus steadily chugged on its way back as if on a scenic run of some seaside resort as time ticked away like a bomb.

Back at the car park trusting blind intuition I validated my ticket in the machine near the bus stop. Credit card at the ready to pay the excess.

But there was no charge.

Then at the exit barrier the validated ticket, despite being in sweaty hands, was accepted and the barrier lifted.

I sped out.

And only after exiting this strange world of the airport could I relax and listen to my travellers’ tales and give my ‘Love Actually’  smiles to the motorway.