Reflections on Terminal 4

Caught the taxi from the Hotel in Saint Michel, Paris to Charles de Gaulle aerogare (my word) where I left Europe. Dragging my bag and attendant parcels of glassware and recently purchased momentos.

I hung out at CdG figuring I’d be better with a bag to put all the glassware and Easter eggs in.

The flight from Paris to London is meant to be one and a quarter hours. It arrived 20 mins early. Then I had to make my way to Terminal 4 from Terminal 5. Simple I thought. Not so Alex. It takes 2 hours to clear security the customs official told me “and then you have to get to Terminal 4” she said. First bum steer.

Catch the train the guy with the Scottish accent and official looking garb. “Can I use €’s for that” I say.

“Its free” says he in his best Scot. Socialism lives even in the UK!

After getting to the platform serves the London bound train an official looking woman in smart uniform says I’m on the wrong platform for London. “I just want to go to Terminal 4” says I in a desperate voice.

“So it’s the bus you’ll be wanting” says she – “It’s quicker”. “I’ll show you where”. Bum steer number 2 as she directs me to a bus stop with a bus waiting. But this driver ignores the would be passenger from the Antipodes whose carrying more luggage than a camel train driver. I see the friendly looking British Airways attendant and thinking she’ll know, I ask her. “Over there to the Terminal 4 bus” she directs me, in her best scottish song.

Bum steer number 3.

I’m redirected on to the “true” path by another soul. Though he suggests I go back into Terminal 5 and take the train! Not that again. The never ending buddist circle. No I’ll find the magical mystery bus. The true path to enlightenment.

On the true path I meet the BA lassie who apologises for giving me the wrong steer and then she goes into overdrive helping me through bus routes and timetables to get me to Terminal 4. Thank you!

2 minutes and you’ll get a bus. I’m trusting but not convinced.

She and the other air attendents board their bus and I wait ! Then along comes the 390 or whatever. On I get bags flapping everywhere. The driver confirms we are going to Terminal 4.
I do not believe him.

We make another stop (eating into my 2 hour security clearance). On hops another man about my age. At first I think he’s English, turns out to be Spanish who lived here for 16 years but now lives in Peru. He is heading home to Lima. He tells me this is the Terminal 4 bus for sure. I believe him.

We arrive at the entrance to Terminal 4 and I can see the QANTAS desk. Australian spoken! A billabong at last.

The clerk confirms my upgrade to Business Class, the sleeping capsule, the food and drink. I have been enlightened.


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