O.M.G.

I am stranded in London Heathrow airport.

The collective assortment of symbols on this keyboard cannot express the multitude of frustration and anxiety I feel right now.


After (in reverse chrono order) a ridiculous rush from Terminal 1 to 2 of the labyrinth that is LHR; locating the damn Heathrow Express (equivalent of the Skytrain @Changi) which some LHR staff told me wasn't working - freakin' false alarm which got me out of the Terminal - jumping queue at customs; bumping my seat up next to business class (near the exit) on the flight - I freakin' tried - I am then ceremoniously denied access to my connecting flight at the check-in counter.

(Not that it was the airline's fault I was sweaty, red and probably quite deranged-looking. Or that I was just minutes to take-off.)

And then told, by the airline that was supposed to carry me to Bucharest via Zurich, that my agent was at fault for booking me in with insufficient time for my connection ("under-connecting").

And there is nothing - nothing - for me to do until the freakin' travel agent's office opens, because apparently, nobody picks up the phone on the 24-hour support service. Well you might as jolly well not have it.

Except blog, of course.

And now, I am spinning with too many thoughts swirling in my head now. Do I have to buy another ticket altogether? Another one, airline-direct at this stage, would cost upwards of £500. Should I be threatening with the bloody travel agent? Can I? Should I get legal advice? Can I?

Oh, my gosh.

Stop.

Breathe.

!"£$%^&*()(*&^%$£"~@?><*!!

Yah, the clincher would have to be if they bombed here as well.