At Heathrow, I saw my flight was due to leave on time. If I was going to catch an internal flight about an hour after I landed, I wanted to get my internal flight ticket before I checked in for the Athens flight, so that my luggage would go straight through. The Chios flight was full. Ho Hum. Back to the drawing board. Where would I spend that night? I did not imagine that by half past seven I would be stepping foot onto one of the Cyclades. Onto the tarmac of Milos airport, in fact.
As I was waiting to go through the security check a chap dashed apologetically to the top of the queue - saying he was late. He only had hand luggage. Checking in bags must be a headache when you are late. I felt smug as I had arrived in plenty of time, catching a train from Huntingdon an hour or two earlier than I need have. In the departure lounge at Heathrow, I overheard a snippet of conversation. "He's not here yet. He's always late." And on the plane "He hasn't checked in yet." A chap dashed on board just as we were about to take off. He had a very short hair cut. "Stopped off for a hair cut?" his friends teased him. It transpired that (the hostess doing breathing exercises made me think of that word) he had come from Welwyn (through which my train had gone). The first train had been cancelled, the next one at least 25 minutes late, but it sounded like one of those "delayed indefinitely" situations. Then he got a lift by car from someone at the station. Lucky I caught a very early train. I do not like being late, especially for a plane. Little did I know then………….
At Athens I looked for a tourist office, hoping to find an up-to-date ferry timetable. If a ferry was going that night to an island I fancied I would - travel time to Piraeus permitting - catch it. Otherwise, I intended spending the night in Athens and setting out to Piraeus next morning. There was certain to be a ferry going to somewhere I fancied between 7.30 and 9 in the morning. I did not find a tourist office - the only information desk was an Olympic information desk, but I did notice the domestic departure board. By then, it was around 18.40.
There was a plane at 19.15 to Santorini. Santorini was too big and expensive, I thought (although I have since heard that because of over capacity on Santorini, rooms can sometimes be had cheaply). There was also a plane at 19.00 to Milos. In twenty minutes time. I fancied flying to Milos. But could I make the plane? Could I buy a ticket, check in, and get myself on board the plane in twenty minutes. It would be tight. When I decided to have a go for the Milos flight, I had not realised the length (and, Greece being Greece, the breadth) of the check in queues). Could I do it? I would certainly try. Groups of elderly Saga passengers had been on the flight from London and were meandering apparently aimlessly around the terminal. This did not make my journey to the domestic ticket office any easier. I thought of how smug I had felt when I saw the late arrival dashing to the front of the security check queue at Heathrow, and the chap dashing on to the Athens bound plane at the last minute. Now I had done this all before and knew the ropes and where to go - more or less - otherwise I would never have made it. There was, inevitably, a queue at the ticket office. I reached the head of queue. A Greek woman was also in a hurry. The woman at the ticket desk was on the telephone. She gestured me to the next free desk. The person at that desk was also on the telephone. Then I was gestured to a third ticket desk. Time was ticking by. I thought of Lunn Poly in Lincoln where I had bought my ticket from London to Athens. The staff there were often interrupted by telephone calls when negotiating my ticket, but there had been no urgency. When I tried to buy an air ticket in Lincoln, the plane was never due to leave in just ten minutes. "Is there seat to Milos and is there time to catch it?!"
Yes, there was a seat. I bought my ticket. I had to go to the cashier at yet another desk to pay, and then back to ticket office where I was given a wodge of paper. The boarding pass? In too much of a rush to notice what I got. "Go to A Area." Now back in England, I think of the analogy with a Monopoly board. Not a bad analogy thinking that Olympic has - or at least used to have - a monopoly on internal flights in Greece.
Area A a seething mass of humanity. The queue anywhere arrangement is fine usually, but here people for flights leaving later are queuing with people for soon-to-leave flights. My flight soon, very soon, extremely soon. Imminent in fact. The plane could be already trundling down the runway. Help!!. The plane takes off in less than minutes. Left bag in queue and went to front to ask. There is one girl behind the desk processing a passenger’s ticket. Just as in England the person at the head of a queue for railway tickets always seems to want to go to John O'Groats by the scenic route by way of Land's End, the person at the head of this queue had some lengthy requirement. Obviously not an urgent requirement. Another Olympic girl was standing at the side of the desk. I approached her.
"Milos?" I said to her, in what I hoped was a quizzical but friendly tone.
"OK. Yes. Wait" she replied.
I went back to my place in the queue. The queue did not move. I ventured forward again.
"Milos 10 minutes." I said. Actually, it was more like five minutes.
"OK." She said. I again looked quizzically.
"OK."
A nice chap for the Santorini flight at 19.15 said I could go in front. I did. Then at 19.00 the nice Olympic girl at the side of the desk kept looking at me. I heard the last call for Milos. She talked to girl behind the counter, then gestured me forward. I put my luggage on the scales. The girl behind the counter dashed off - to the despair of the others in the queue (sorry, but it was not my fault, really!). She ran back and said, "take luggage - GO gate 2. GO" - I went, dashing as quickly as I could through the crowds of Saga Louts.
I staggered to Gate 2, staggering not because of the weight of my luggage but because of the density of the swarming masses. I have been to the domestic departure gates many times, but silly me, being in a hurry I managed to set off in the wrong direction and had to ask in my best Greek "Gate please" to nice old Greek man!
Gate 2 was shut. The passengers had flown. Or rather, I hoped they had not yet flown. I peered anxiously through the glass. "Wait here," said the woman hostess. Flight 19.00. Now 18.59. I was sent to a door labelled "ground hostess." They were expecting me, and a hostess ran to the door to the runway, and ran with me across the runway to the waiting plane. We usually do this bit by bus, and as I dashed, I kept glancing left and right. And glancing ahead to make sure the plane did not go without me, although there was nothing I could do if it did.
"Leave luggage outside please," said the hostess. I dashed up the small steps to the plane. My small rucksack got caught in the cord rail by the door (more haste less speed). The door was shut up after me. The plane took off. I dared not look back - in case my luggage (in case my case) was still on the ground.
I may have known of the Milos flight at 19.00 but must in England have discounted it as too much of a rush, even if my luggage had gone through direct!! A thought - after late plane on the way back. If I had booked the Milos flight in advance, missed the flight because of a late running flight from London, and checked my luggage straight through, Olympic may have retained my luggage for the first Milos flight next day. I would rather then have gone by ferry that night. The delay in getting my luggage back could also mean that I would miss any ferry going that night. What is the procedure in those circumstances??
By the time we were flying over Milos, I almost had my breath back.
[1997]
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