take me back to dear ol' blighty pt. 3

(the story so far. after a tiring 14 hour flight into london, i accidentally got on to the wrong bus and found myself stranded at a highway service station in the middle of nowhere. in my most desperate hour i find my nameless guardian angel. this is the last installment. the first and second can be had by clicking on the links.)

neglecting his other duties, he sat down and listened to my whole saga. he then gave me a few options. i could spend the money and get to london and then fork out another fortune on some overpriced motel seeing that the bus to nottingham had long departed. the other cheaper and more sensible option was to put up in a travelodge just behind the station and early next morning make arrangement for the bus company to pick me up from the nearest assigned bus station in a small nearby town called chippenham (the name is so typically british that i laugh whenever i think about it). the taxi fare from the travelodge to chippenham would only cost me about 10 pounds. there was just no way around it and i agreed.

he then accompanied me to the travelodge and introduced me to another gem of a human being. she was a woman in her fifties who was manning the reception at the small motel that night. she listened to my story and they both agreed that the bus company was not being very straight with me. she then of her own volition picked up the phone and called the hotline that i have tried earlier and retold my story to the operator. it was already midnight by that time and the operator concluded that the bus was not coming tonight. she suggested to the receptionist that i should write in to their hq after all this is over to ask for reimbursement for my motel stay and taxi ride tomorrow morning. she also said that even though i was late by a day my ticket to nottingham was still valid and i did not need buy a new ticket from chippenham to london.

by now only half my brain was working and i gladly took the keys from the nice lady and checked into my room. with all the adrenaline surging in my blood from the night's adventure i found it difficult to really sleep but it felt good just to rest my head on something soft in a horizontal position sans snoring britons. the next morning i rose early and called my friend to tell him what had transpired. he couldn't believe his ears and i nodded sheepishly in agreement.

after a quick breakfast at the deli (the nice young man had already clocked out) the motel called a cab for me and i drove into chippenham. at the bus station, the bus was again late but this time i had other grumbling passengers with me and it was a pleasant albeit cold morning. i fell into conversation with some fellow passengers while waiting. i was too embarrassed by the days' event and cooked up some story about visitng a friend in chippenham. it was not common to see an oriental type in this sleepy hamlet and their curiosity was piqued. before it became only proper for me to tell the truth, the bus arrived. after another bout of explanation to this driver i was allowed to board and after another 3 hours or so i found myself in london.

i got the date of my ticket to nottingham changed and finally arrived at my destination. the sight of my friend nearly brought a tear to my eye and he zipped me home as fast as traffic permitted. his wife cooked up a storm that night and i finally got a decent night 's rest after a 24 hour delay.

returning home a few weeks later, i wrote the bus company a lengthy letter regarding my mishap and after 2 weeks they emailed me to apologize and credited GBP 58.30 to my credit card. i sincerely hope that this will be read by the night manager and the receptionist. they are shining examples of decency and all that is good in humanity. they restore my faith in mankind.

take me back to dear ol' blighty pt. 2

(in case you don't know this is the second installment of my english saga. the first is found here)

i made my way in the swaying bus to the driver and explained my predicament. being british he maintained his upper lip and proceeded to call hq on his cellphone. after a few tense minutes he informed me, all the while keeping his eyes on the road, that i must get off the bus and make my way to the other side of the highway to a rest station where another bus will take me back into central london.

i thanked him profusely and after another 15 minutes the bus expelled me onto the open, deserted carpark of a service station. the cold wind nearly swept my spirits away. i had to make my way across an overhead bridge to the other side where another station was located. bogged down by my luggage i nevertheless made it over, all the time aware of the speeding highway traffic beneath me.

Leigh Delamere service station. i will never forget the name of this modern oasis surrounded by wide expanses of desolate english countryside. by the time i opened the glass doors of the station, my hands were beginning to numb. with my teeth chattering i waited in the confines of the place all the time keeping an eye out for any sign of the bus which was supposed to pick me up and carry me back to civilization. the driver had promised that i only had to wait for something like 15 minutes but the hour dragged on and still nothing.

battling the cold and hunger i cramped myself into a nearby phone booth on the outside of the building and called the hotline number printed on my e-ticket. a man picked up the phone and after much explanation and checking, he confirmed that a bus was on the way to pick me up. it was now 10 pm and the carpark was empty except for a few late night drivers who had stopped for coffee in the station. i must have been a curious sight to them; a chinese shivering in the cold dragging a huge luggage and obviously very lost. nobody stopped to ask though.

another 30 minutes passed and things were looking grim. i called the hotline again and this time a lady answered. after another round of explanation she again told me to stay put and wait. the gravity of the situation finally got to me and i am ashamed to say that i lost my temper and raised my voice. in a calm and collected tone she pointed out to me that i was the one who got on the wrong bus and she was just trying to help me. recognizing the futility of my anger, i backed off and told her i would continue to wait. another 30 minutes passed and i knew that i was going to have to spend a night in the station.

i made my way into the station where most shops and food stands were already closed for the night. right in the middle though was a 24 hour deli. a few workers were getting ready to go home while some had just reported for the graveyard shift. i was the only customer. i ordered a sandwich and some juice. in a last ditch effort to get back into london i asked them if there were any taxi services operating around this part of the woods. they referred me to their night manager who went to the back of the shop to make some phone calls on my behalf.

after 10 minutes he came back out and told me that it was going to cost me a small fortune to get a cab to drive me to london from these regions. till this day i have a nagging feeling that i did not thank this young man enough although i was very profuse by my own standards that night. contrary to the popular stereotype of the bulky british male, he was rake-thin and walked with a limp. there was something wrong with his face but i could not put my finger on it. the one thing that stood out though was his kind eyes. i knew i had found my guardian angel.

to be continued...

take me back to dear ol' blighty pt. 1

this little anecdote actually happened to me at the beginning of 2005 and till today still makes for an interesting reverie whenever i am caught in traffic.

i had just endured a 14 hour flight sitting beside an oversized Briton who did not have any qualms rubbing in the fact that while he slept like a newborn, i was suffering the effects of extreme sleep deprivation. i have never been able to sleep during flights and will probably go to my grave this way. not only was my traveling companion sleeping, he was serenading the whole plane with the loudest snore i have ever heard. the drone of the engines did little to drown it out. of the 14 hours, he was asleep for at least 10, waking up only to stuff his face with insipid airline food.

i got off the plane with a throbbing headache and into the grey surrounds of heathrow airport. i meant to catch a bus to my friend's in nottingham and had already bought a ticket online. this journey was broken into 2 parts; from heathrow to central london where i had to change buses to my final destination and hopefully a good night's rest.

with a heavy suitcase in tow i made my way to the bus station behind the arrival halls and waited in the freezing cold. my bus to central london was numbered 123 (i can't remember the exact number now). the time of arrival for the bus came and went and i was still in the cold. i asked a lady in uniform at the station and she confirmed that the bus was late due to traffic but was arriving soon. i did not think much of this at that time and sat down again. another 20 minutes passed before the 123 pulled into the station and the crowd surged forward. the driver was so preoccupied with loading everyone's luggage into the belly of the bus that he did not even check my ticket. i hopped on and kicked back dreaming of the warm cozy bed waiting for me 4 hours later at my friend's place.

unknown to me at that time, bus 123 did arrive on time that cold wintry evening but it was at a makeshift stop behind the one that i was waiting at. this 123 was bound for central london and not the one that i got on! after one hour i begun to realise that something was not right. instead of the bright lights of london all i could see was mile and miles of highway and dark empty fields. i asked a girl sitting in front of me where we were headed and she said some place that definitely was not london. my heart sunk but for the first time in 18 hours i was fully awake.

to be continued....