I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch... WTF???

After over 30 hours in transit, I've finally come to a conclusion... long haul air travel and me just don't mix. In fact, we are like oil and water, drinking and driving, Madonna and Guy Ritchie. I was so optimistic, but alas, it just isn't meant to be. Long haul air travel, indeed you are not my friend. I've also come to another conclusion... that combination padlocks and me also don't mix. I should've known what I was in for at the gate waiting for the flight in Sydney.

I bought a combination padlock for the carry on bag that I was taking on the plane that contained my money, phone and change of clothes for Heathrow. Of course, I managed to change the combination in the process of putting the lock on, thus rendering my bag impenetrable until I found someone with bolt cutters that could cut the f*cker off. Awesome. Remind me never to buy a freaking combination padlock EVER AGAIN. Of course no bastard between Sydney and Dubai had any clue as to how to help me. Needless to say the problem was very easily solved by a member of staff at Heathrow who managed to get the bag open in about 10 seconds flat. Did I feel like a dick? You bet. But it meant I got through immigration in about 3 minutes, so it was worth looking like a tool for.

So, after sitting at the gate in Sydney for over an hour, the plane was finally ready to board. The lady sitting next to me was lovely. If I wanted someone to invade my personal space like that I'd go to the Big Day Out. The mole managed to occupy every square inch of space. I had to do something. So I reclaimed the armrest in a quiet but forceful manner. I needed to let her know ok bitch, you can have my leg space, but you ain't taking my arm space too. Also, I've come to the conclusion that maybe online check-in isn't such a good idea. What I thought were voids turned out to be the toilets. So for a good 20 hours, I had the privilege of knowing when every mother f*cker on the flight was having a bowel or bladder explosion.

Dubai was nice, in a fleeting way. The plane was so late, I had just enough time to go through security, stare at the totally covered up ladies waiting in line with me, find someone to open my bag, realise there was no-one that had any clue whatsoever, then board my next flight to Heathrow. Which brings me to the A380.

The A380. To say that it left me underwhelmed is an understatement. That plane was basically the same old economy, but with more f*cking people jammed into a bigger space. I have never seen queues for toilets like I have on that plane. Again, never do online check in. Not only did I have to deal with people's bowel and bladder evacuations, but I also had to deal with the freaks lining up. Perfect. What I'd like to know is where the hell is all of this extra freaking space I was promised? I tell you where it is, in bloody business and first class.

So, I get on the plane, and walk down to aisle 66. I call this the aisle from hell. It should have been aisle 666. I had to sit next to this boy, who was the spawn of the devil, and his grandmother for 8 hours. But this boy was no ordinary boy. He was, hmmm, I would say he was an autistic chav with his equally chav grandma. Imagine the worst child on Supernanny - I was sitting next to it. He reminded me of a more skinny, annoying Haley Joel Osment. He talked like a cross between a total geezer and the dude in Some Mothers Do Ave Em. I couldn't help but be rude and ignore him. He ACTUALLY made my skin crawl. That's quite hard for a child to do usually. At one point him and his grandma were having a smackdown in their seats. I was THIS close to asking the air hostess to be moved to another seat. At one point he was watching Mamma Mia, and singing out loud to the songs. Not a pretty situation for anyone.

Finally arriving at Heathrow, skipping the queue because of my retarded padlock, my suitcase just happened to be one of the first off the carousel. Oh yeah. I'm loving Heathrow already. So after getting changed, I managed to work out the whole tube deal, got myself to Kings Cross for 4 pounds, and finally met Em. YAY for me. I am woman hear me roar - grrrrr.