london yesterday

looking for the gate for the Gatwick flight home. To Belfast.Its twenty to eight in the evening and the gate hasnt been revealed. The flight is scheduled to go at a quarter to eight. Then, at quarter to eight it pops up on the screen.

BOARDING AT GATE 10.

i walk slowly with the crowd.

one minute later an irate female voice says  over the intercom:

LAST CALL FOR THE 19.45 FLIGHT TO BELFAST.

A roar goes up from the bustle of Belfast bounders.

Expletives bounce around the crowd.

Im angry.

We waited patiently and now we are late.

How can this be?

i asked a flustered female ground staff what was up.

she blurted out

THE SCREEN THAT ANNOUNCES THE FLIGHTS WAS BROKEN. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE!

she looks at me and then at my passport photo.

MY HAIR HAS GROWN, BUT ITS STILL ME

i say.

she didnt laugh. She did let me on the plane, which is the important thing.

i got a seat beside a woman with a Ballymena accent reading a book about Royal London. I wonder does she read the book about Royal London in a Ballymena accent?

The Screen was broken.

We kept on staring.

We knew something was wrong.

We kept on staring.

The screen was broken…. 

  

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