The flights for these exchanges are booked via an agency and paid for by the British Council. My return journey was therefore due to be rather complicated: Logan to Washington DC; Washington DC to Heathrow; long car journey home. Having heard that heavy snow had been forecast for Washington for my day of departure, I called United to try and arrange an alternative flight, direct from Logan, in the aim of avoiding delay, or potentially becoming stranded at the airport. United helpfully informed me that they were unable to do anything until the flight was actually cancelled - despite the 100% chance of precipitation - adding that the next direct flight from Logan with availability wasn't until late on Tuesday 22nd.
I therefore had no choice but to wait. My last morning was spent in front of my laptop, refreshing the flight information page. Eventually, both my flights flashed up as 'cancelled', and I immediately dialled the number on the screen. Three-and-a-half hours later I was still on hold, waiting to speak to someone. After discussing the pros and cons of going against advice and heading directly to the airport, I decided that at least there I'd get to speak to someone face-to-face and so I said my final goodbyes and Michelle and I left for Logan.
Once there, we discovered the United desk had 'closed' and I was brusquely advised to call the number on the website. I implored the gentleman to help me, explaining I'd been in a queue on said number for hours already and just wanted to get home. He responded by telling me to return the next day but that I probably wouldn't get a flight until at least Tuesday. Fairly desperate to get home, I refused to back down and reminded him an airline is obliged to place a passenger with a cancelled flight on the next available flight, even if that's with a competitor. I scored a place on an American Airlines flight, due to leave at 9am the next day.
As the snow storm was heading to Boston that night, I made the judgement call to stay at Logan rather than return with Michelle. I found a quiet corner and made use of the free wifi to while away the hours until the American Airlines desk opened at 4am; I'd been told as they overbook, my seat wasn't yet guaranteed. By 3.30am a substantial queue had already formed. My heart sank as an operative began telling us to go home and call the number he was distributing, as most flights had been cancelled. Fortunately, my luck had turned and the Heathrow flight *was* still scheduled to leave; I checked in without any problems and was able to relax over a plate of french toast and some much-needed coffee.
My flight was slightly delayed as it needed to be repeatedly de-iced and taking off on what appeared to be Arctic tundra was an interesting experience but eventually we were airborne. It was a pleasant flight, with good company (I made a friend!) and it wasn't that long before I was looking down at the lights of Ireland, my heart swelling with elation. We passed over Wales (and I swear, my house) before landing smoothly at Heathrow at 10pm. Best. Feeling. Ever.
The drive home was also eventful as we battled through snow flakes the size of saucers and un-gritted roads. It was slow progress; we arrived at the bottom of my hill at around 2am. Determined to be 'home', I declined the offer of a warm bed and walked the final leg of my journey, through the snow, with just the clothes on my back.
I found my little house to be colder than the snow itself; the heating had broken and my first night was a tad chilly, to say the least. There's nothing like one's own bed though. Luckily, the next day the boiler kicked back into life - it seems sediment had got into the oil as the tank had run low - and I've been toasty-warm ever since. I was also reunited with my clothes the next day and able to get to work on the things that needed doing - so slowly, things began to return to normal.
Bizarrly, I discovered that driving would take a little re-adjustment; after five months of driving an automatic, using the clutch took concentration! I didn't have time to ease myself back into the driving though, as as soon as the snow was passable I had to get one of my cats to the vet for a £300 welcome back present. She's worth it though.
Other than that, it's like I never left!
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