Glasgow airport... my mum came in with me, which never happens because she usually has to run home to work, but she parked and came in with me and waited in line and we laughed and sang and cried... well not really, but we did talk to the lady and here's the story. The lady behind the counter hated English people. She had to call London to book me on my LA flight (because I was flying BA and going Glasgow London, London LA, LA Salt Lake). When she got off the phone she made a face that meant 'stupid bitch', I know that face... she made it... she was thinking it. Anyway she hated calling the london people, and she told me then that I had been upgraded a class to world traveller plus, rather than world traveller. That means more leg room right? Sweet.
I got on my London flight, and legged it through terminal 5 which has a Wagamamas, and some beautiful architecture, I don't know why people hate T-5 so much. I loved it. It was an amazing experience.
When I got to the gate for LA there were loads of people kicking about and they all queued and I just held back, because the plane can't leave without me... fact. So I just waited and I was one of the last ten to go through.
As I got to the desk, the woman took my ticket and told me there had been another seat change. She handed me my ticket and I said... awww have I been downgraded again. To which she said, No... Nooooo. In a way that was like she was denying all knowledge of me ever being upgraded.
I got into the queue and there was a mother and two small children in front of me. She was telling them that they were in the tail of the plane and that they were the most important people because it meant the tail wouldn't float off into the sky. The kids didn't care and they just kept running against the glass panes and chasing each other.
My new seat number was 60J... my life started to appear a little less than exciting, because I figured with a number like 60 I would be in the tail too, with small children... for 11 hours.
Fun. Gag.
Moments before I reeached the door I thought to myself 'i wonder if I'll ever be rich enough to fly first class and sit upstairs.'
Moments later I was at the door and the stewardess said to me '60J, up the stairs and the first seat on the right at the front.' I just about melted to the floor. Up the stairs?
UP THE STAIRS?
I started walking up the stairs and it was so quiet.. it was like another world. There were about 20 seats or less and mine was at the front. Here's where i got my left and right mixed up though, good old lessons I should have learned when I was 10. I went to the left and started to pull stuff out my bag. I glanced over to the right and saw a blonde lady, very pretty, on the phone. She smiled at me, I smiled back and then I realised I was sitting next to her... or rather opposite, and then switched sides and started texting my farewells from my O2 number.
After about 30 seconds I realised the lady next to me looked like Cameron Diaz. One minute and twenty seven seconds later I realised it was Cameron Diaz. I think I gasped, my lungs filled with air and I just started texting everyone. She was on the phone and kept saying things like 'Oh Jude you are so wonderful.' 'Oh jude it was so great to see you,' 'Oh jude, I need to call Katie,' 'Jude, come stay with me,' 'How long have I been single... three years now,' and the clincher 'Remember that movies I was in, the producers, well I met so and so and blah and blah.'
Now. this was either someone playing a hugely elaborate joke, or it really was Cameron herself. I honestly think it was cameron herself, and I just couldn't talk to her. I just stared. She was beautiful. She had freckled skin, and brilliantly blonde hair, her earings were large gold hoops, and she was wearing an aaron jumper with a brown, short leather skirt. She was huge when she stood up, and she looked like a normal person, gorgeous, and normal.
I was in love with her.
She didn't shut the shutter between our seats, so we technically had dinner and lunch together. She ordered a salad for starters and a salad for her main course. She didn't have lunch, and she ate peanut M&Ms in a large bag like you get from the cineworld counters, or from Asda on the special buy three for three quid.
She was amazing, and I made her laugh. My pen burst all over me when I went to fill in my passport customs form thing and she kind of laughed at me.
She watched movies, and she bumbled about like one of her clumsy characters. She dropped things, she shuffled about, she was wonderful. She put the shutter up when we were sleeping, and I, yes, I slept with Cameron Diaz... top to toe... with plastic between us. But there we go.
It has now become my biggest regret in life that i never spoke to her. yes this is pretty much where the story ends... other than the knowledge I have that she traevls on a newly issued UK passport that was given to her by washington. And she has a hybrid English American accent and she uses a pink motorola razr phone and she's beautiful and wonderful beyond all reason.
I do declare though, that the next time she sees me, she'll recognise me... and wonder where she knows me from, and then she will realise she loves me. She will also remember how shiney and perfect my fringe was for 11 hours... just for her. By the time I got to salt lake my fringe was gross, but just as long as it was good enough for Cameron I was fine.
It has to have been the best christmas present, and the best flight of my life.
I saw her once we got off the plane too. And while we were on our way to passport control we had to go down this set of stairs or escalator with airport security at the bottom checking passports. Of course there was a traffic jam... and people were about to start getting crushed at the bottom of the escalator. Thanks to Eilidh's experience with the london crushing escalator I remembered what to do... sadly, americans don't put their emergency buttons anywhere useful, and i had to go digging in the crowd for it. Look at me saving the day one button at a time.
I made it through passport control no problem, and the 11 hours before hand, where I sat thinking of all possible questions and outcomes, slipped away. That was one of the reasons I couldn't speak to Cameron, i was stressing too much about getting through passport control. Seriously. I had to keep talking myself down from anxiety attacks and what not. Everything is magnified in the air. I promise you.
Gutted though. I heart cameron.
British Airways though... top class. I hope I fly with them forever, seriously. Best service, best ground staff in LA.. they were fabulous.
United Airlines... I hope I stay away from them forever. They were unhelpful, and completely passive about everything. It really sucked. I had little time to catch my SLC flight, and I was six terminals away... and rather than get a bus I walked... in the LA heat... with Ugg boots on. I was sweaty beyond all reason.
Then my passport wouldn't scan, and then I had to queue in a queue that didn't move. And I tried to get a 'I'm a transfer, my bag is on the plane, I've been travelling for 15 hours, I'm sweaty and gross' queue jump, but they just weren't having it... and this english woman leeched on to me while I was begging and she was like 'Well you think they would be more helpful.'
Alas... United suck. Let it be known. If I was an American I would make a formal complaint. I'm not though, I'm just going to whine about it to anyone that wants to listen.
I made the plane. And I got to salt Lake just after midnight, and it was just so amazing to be back with Jon again... regardless of it being 7am at home, me looking gross, one of my bags (a dog carrier for maddy) being lost and left in LA and my actual suitcase taking it's sweet time to get off the plane.
I met an awesome girl on my last flight, good ol' mormon, I enjoy the salt lake flights because there's always mormons, but yeah, she was amazing ashley ord I think her name was. She was happy, blonde and completely normal. I high five her and her awesomeness.
And here endeth the tale of the Diaz.
