Miami... the long way around!!!

Its a two hour journey on a bad day from the port of Puerto Quetzal in Guatemala to the capital city airport. Today it took three.

I arrived nonetheless with two other entertainers with whom I had just spent an enjoyable and successful three days on the Celebrity Infinity… still full of the joys. Because I was flying to Miami. Direct. And in three hours time I would have two nights and a full day and a half to myself, to do what I wanted...See friends, shop, have a cheeky vino or two before joining the awesome celebrity Equinox in Miami for the last cruise of four in a row. For those of you who have read my previous commentaries you’ll know I am always very fond of my albeit short but sweet stays in the South of Florida. Having joined and left ships here during the winter months for the last three or four years I have accumulated a lot of great friends in the area and my knowledge of outlet shopping is akin to a local. So I was excited, despite the lengthy commute and the early start.

I trundled along to the American Airline self check machines and after several fruitless attempts I had to call on a member of staff for help. Very pleasantly he tried himself twice to access my booking and there was no joy. He kindly helped me with my copious luggage (yup… still travelling with all those shoes) to a customer service desk where it transpired there had been an issue with the booking and it had been cancelled. 

I wasn’t worried. These things happen. Oversights usually, so I called my agent in the UK who was heading out of the office and asked him to help. 

Eric, the comedy magician I had been travelling with approached me with a puzzled expression… 

“Whats going on?’ he enquired. His glances towards the luggage I was still in possession of, clearly causing him confusion.

“Don’t worry” I explained “Little hiccup. I’m on with it. My agent will be sorting it out for me. Listen, you head through departures and I’ll see you shortly. We are both very hungry and I don’t want to keep you waiting. I have no idea how long this is going to take”

Last night I had performed a 'one off’  kind of show in the Grand Foyer of the ship. It was well attended and very enjoyable but because of the time of the show, my inability to eat food before I sing and the ludicrously early time our pick up for the airport had been scheduled for, I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours.

“I don’t like leaving you… you sure you’ll be ok?” he asked ever so gallantly. ‘Want an emergency protein bar?"

“Thanks but no I’m fine. We’ll eat properly soon. I’ll be there annoying you shortly” I assured him. We had been scheduled to take the same flight and I had every intentions of bugging him the entire way to Miami with my childlike excitement.

Ten minutes later my agent called back.

“Your booking was cancelled Jayne but they have booked you another flight. Have you got a pen??”

Theres no public wifi in the Departure hall of Guatemala Airport so I had resorted to texting and calls. It had already cost me a fortune.

"Your flight is now at 4pm. Via Panama City and you’ll arrive in Miami at 1am tonight”

My heart sank.

As regular readers will know, I am a ‘Person of Interest’ in the immigration system in the States due to a misunderstanding with my ESTA earlier this year. I am now in possession of not one but TWO legitimate visa’s which allow me unlimited entries to the States for ten years… but I‘m still in the system regardless and EVERY TIME I enter through Miami airport I am detained. For anywhere up to four hours.

My early evening arrival had meant that regardless of my fate on this particular day.. I would be in bed at a reasonable time and ready to have Breakfast with friends and pound the pavements of the ‘Miami Dolphin Mall’ earlier than the first cock crows. Not that I had ever heard a cock crow in Miami.

This was going to be tough. A 1am arrival. Then join a line to learn my fate. I wasn’t relishing it. But I was trying to remain positive.

When I find myself in these situations I usually try to take a minute to think about all the awesome experiences this job has afforded me. It takes the sting out of the tail a bit.

I have been out on cruises now since October 28th when I joined the splendid Celebrity Eclipse in Southampton for her transatlantic repositioning cruise to the States. It was seven consecutive days at sea and whilst the weather can be unpredictable and the many sea days a little weary, this time it was exactly the opposite. I’m fortunate enough to have an excellent working relationship with the cruise director Eddy, and he and I had met a month or so previous to discuss a few Ideas I had come up with to add to the entertainment programme and make the whole experience a little more eventful and rewarding for the guests and the other entertainers. He gave me the thumbs up and whilst it was an inordinate amount of work and I found myself either on stage, in rehearsal or in the shower for the entire duration of the trip, I seldom remember a trip I enjoyed more. It had ignited a fire in me… my creative juices had been flowing and the feedback and positivity it had stimulated catapulted me towards the rest of these subsequent back to back contracts with a vigour I haven’t felt for a long while.

From there I had been to Celebrity Reflection in Roatan Honduras, where I had spent a night in a beautiful and tranquil hotel on a diving lagoon, perfect for rest and relaxation and an opportunity to recoup some energy before the next ship and a new set of shows. It was not ideal however, for pest avoidance… It was my fault… I had left open the balcony door for too long and I woke the next morning in abject horror to discover that I had been bitten to death by a mosquito. But only on my right boob… which was now accurately akin to a squashed Blueberry muffin. Not attractive. 

From Reflection I had headed to Celebrity Infinity in Puerta Vallarta Mexico and from whence I was currently making my way to Miami.

Buoyed by these thoughts of the past few weeks, I shuffled over to the ‘Copa Airlines’ desk to check in for my new ‘around the houses’ version of my previous route only to be told the ticket hadn’t been paid for. 

Not a problem. Another call to my agent in the UK and all was sorted. However, Copa have a strict policy about flying into the US and because I had no exiting flight details or any paperwork they deemed official enough to allow me board the ship in the States, they refused to check me in. 

Several more calls to my agent in the UK and a two hour wait and finally I was issued with a boarding pass.

By this point I don’t mind telling you I was a little frazzled. My correspondences with the UK had racked up to over £100 and knowing the other acts were now somewhere around 35,000 feet on their way directly to Miami made me feel envious and a little sad I’m not proud to say. One more incident in customs with being shoved to the back of the line and my patience had evaporated.

I dragged myself to the nearest bar.

“I need a beer. Its an emergency” I told the bar tender and she smiled and poured me cup. My eyes were hot and red as i gobbled the first mouthful.

I finally got online and managed to message Steve who had understandably been worrying as I had been sending him text messages as the drama had unfolded.

“I can’t talk right now. I’m too upset. Let me just have this beer and calm down” I wrote

“Whats happened? Are you ok? Are you SAFE??”

And I realised at that moment what an irritating drama queen I was being. This is NOT a big deal. In the grand scheme of things I stand to be a little inconvenienced. My plans for a hotel evening of CNN’s 'Anderson Cooper' and Chinese take away food in little cardboard boxes like they have in American sit coms might have been kiboshed, but so what? I was safe.

It took me the duration of the plastic glass of beer (yes I AM a glass snob but today I was so not bothered) to rationalise the entire situation. And on boarding the aircraft I decided I was going to spend this next extra two airborne hours thinking about the highlights of the last two weeks….

The pop up jam night in Martini bar on Eclipse, getting to sing AND dance with some of the cast in a show I got to produce called ‘Duets’… a fantastic day in Boston sharing every kind of food conceivable in Quincy Market with some very good friends and a mini tour of the Irish bars…catching up with pals on Reflection, a lovely dinner in Tuscan grille with guests who travel with me regularly and then another in the Porch seafood restaurant with another couple from Belgium I have known for years. And the beautifully gift wrapped Belgian chocolates they had given me. A shore excursion to the rainforest in Costa Rica… seeing Sloths and Vipers and Herons in their natural habitat and tasting Pineapple that had been hanging on a tree only hours before…sweeter than I ever dreamed plausible... Joshua the dive instructor from ‘Barefoot Cay’ the hotel in Roatan, who drove me to the immigration office from the hotel and carried my luggage all the way to the ship for me.

I came to my seat ( a middle seat) and the gentleman in the aisle seat offered to switch with me.

“Really? How kind of you!” I exclaimed. “Thats the first nice thing that has happened to me today”

“Oh No!” he said in perfect English… “What’s happened?”

I told him and I felt foolish. 

He empathised with me and ooo’d and aaahhhh’d in all the right places. He was very sweet.

He told me he would be taking his first cruise this year.

“Oh do you work on Cruise Ships too?” I asked. His English was so good I thought he would have been an excellent International Host.

“No No I work in a bank. There are 60 of my colleagues on this flight. We are going to the Dominican Republic tomorrow on a trip with the bank”

“Oh how nice!” I offered”

“It is” He said “especially as 50 out of the 60 of us have never been on a plane before”

I was stunned. And shamed. And altogether put right back in my proper place.

How dare I moan.

I have been paid to see the entire globe. I’m the luckiest person I know.

It doesn’t matter HOW LONG it takes me to get to Miami. It doesn’t matter if I don’t get there today at all. I am SO fortunate. I am so lucky. And this guy has just given ME his seat.

Consider my attitude shifted. 

I attract calamity I think. Often times I worry its because I am not organised enough (though I try very hard to be) or I am simply doing too many things at once.

Just this summer on two consecutive cruises I went to the Celebrity Silhouette in Helsinki without A SINGLE PAIR of knickers but with SIX bras…..HOW???

And the cruise previous I had ended up on a train from Bruges to Amsterdam leaving one ship and joining another and after getting into an argument on the platform with a very rude ticket collector, had been forced to ride the whole way there sat in the luggage rack.

What I sometimes forget are examples like the generosity of the ‘Baker' family from Matlock, Derbyshire who allowed me to share their cab to Bruges from the port when I couldn’t get one so I didn’t miss my train, or the passengers on the Silhouette who bought extra CD’s because they knew that I would have to buy knickers in Stockholm which is one of the most expensive cities in Europe.

Never underestimate the magnitude of human kindness, It will bite you in the bum when you least expect it.

(Post Script… as I write this I am on the plane to Panama and I have just been given my airplane food… PIZZA! Plantain chips, Oreo’s and BEER!! Is this the best airplane meal EVER???????)

"Person of Interest" Part Two....

…… I took a deep breath and looked around me.

There were about a dozen other passengers waiting on the tarmac as a tiny propeller plane pulled into view. 

I tried to weigh up my options but I was just too tired to concentrate. My logic led me to conclude that everybody here was in a similar circumstance to me. They would all need onward transportation from the airport in Curacao. Hopefully somebody would be able to help me out at the other end. So I followed them blindly on to the aircraft figuring we may as well be stranded in bulk.

As the plane came in to land in Curacao I was more than surprised to discover my luggage was the first off the plane and onto the minuscule conveyor belt in the customs hall. Wearily I dragged my bag into the street where a couple were loading their bags into the back of a minivan on an otherwise deserted road. 

“Excuse me” I asked the driver. Is this the only taxi?

“Oh yes” he replied almost laughing. “Its 1am. I am the only one crazy enough to still be awake at this time. This is my last job of the night.”

I looked at the couple. They too looked tired but their faces were warm and friendly so I thought I might as well ask.

“Hello. I’m so sorry to bother you” (Brits become so very much more British in a crisis) Would it be possible for me to share your taxi to my hotel please? It isn’t far.”

They paused. Looked at each other… spoke to the driver in Dutch… who answered them in Dutch and they smiled and nodded.

“Thank you thank you thank you” I blurted and they giggled.

The hotel was indeed a short distance from the airport and the property, brightly painted and pristine looked very new.

I dragged my wares into reception and attempted to explain my predicament to the gentleman night manager.

I knew I was making very little sense. I was flapping and waffling and gesticulating… about cancellations and flights and runways and airports…

He stood there and let me finish before he silently walked to the fridge in the hotel lobby shop and took out a cool bottle of water.

“Here” the gentle giant proffered and I immediately fell silent and took a drink.

“I took your call earlier this evening Mrs Parry when you contacted the hotel to cancel the reservation. The airline has been experiencing a lot of problems recently and here in Curacao we are used to the last minute changes this throws our way. So I took the liberty of keeping your room for you… should this eventuality arise. Now, you take a moment to collect yourself and I’ll load the bags on to the golf cart and take you right there. What a long day you must have had”

Stunned for a moment… I hurriedly reached into my bag… rummaging through the used tissues and half eaten packets of Cheetos to find my purse to pay him for the water.

“No no.” he murmured very softly “Its on me"

And he smiled that warm caribbean welcome so synonymous with the Dutch Antilles. He was a huge man…tall and broad and soft with more teeth than an alligator as white as snow. I genuinely wanted to cuddle him right there and then. But I was aware of how incredibly terrible I smelled. 

Safely ensconsed in my brand new bed in my brand new hotel room after a cool shower and in some clean PJ’s I led there thinking about my day.

It was literally the kindness of other humans that meant I was here right now and not sleeping on a bench in an airport somewhere. 

On days like today, despite all that goes on in the world, I am gratefully reminded of the generosity of human nature. 

The contract on the beautiful Celebrity Eclipse was a great one… with my good friend and Cruise Director Eddy at the helm it was always going to be fun. And when I left the ship in Barbados to head to New Orleans to join the Equinox for the Mardi Gras cruise I was feeling as positive as I possibly could considering I had come down with an awful cough and cold during the week. I dosed up on everything available to me and messaged the Cruise Director John on Equinox to let him know how excited I was to be heading their way.

The flight from Barbados to Miami left around 3pm and I was due into Miami airport around 6pm local time.

I went though the usual airport motions… walking for what seemed miles from the arrival gate to immigration and then joining the enormous line in order to wait my turn to be seen. 

After what felt like around an hour I was called to the booth to present my documents, all too aware that it was now less than 60 minutes to my connecting flight. The stern faced Gentleman made as little eye contact with me as possible and took what felt like an eon to scan my passport and enter my details. It was then the probing questions began…

Where was I going? What was I doing? Where was my visa?

Again I tried to explain that I had been alerted to the necessity of a visa unbeknownst to me, during my transit through Fort Lauderdale. I tried to offer him the email on my mobile phone detailing the appointment I had made at the US Embassy in London on the absolute earliest date after my arrival back into the UK… and he brushed my hand aside, thrust a yellow slip of paper at me and pointed to the entry to the booth from whence I had just arrived.

“Wait there” was all he offered and I was not permitted to pass. 

I was summonsed by an equally unfriendly looking gentleman and told to join a line of people being ushered away from the crowds towards a different part of the airport. I was told to enter the room and wait for my name to be called.

I was utterly bewildered and disorientated. I hadn’t been told where I was or why. Just to take a seat and hand my luggage labels to an American  Airlines representative as ‘My bags were not being loaded onto the flight’

I sat and waited. Looking around anxiously trying to discern my surroundings and learn a little from what was happening to the dozens of other people sat around me. Some were called to a booth and sent on their way within minutes… some disappeared in to side rooms… only to reappear moments later and sit again before being recalled and readmitted sometime later. i was unsure of WHAT was going on. All I do know was that I was decidedly under the weather, we were not permitted to use our cellular phones AT ALL, I had now missed my connecting flight, no one had any answers for me other than ‘wait your turn’ but most worryingly I was now the only person sitting in this full room that had been here when i first arrived. Every seat had been vacated and refilled at least once and I was beginning to become increasingly upset. After 90 minutes I approached a booth… and before they could tell me to retake my seat i implored the lady 

“PLEASE. Just hear me out”

I explained to her why I thought I had been detained. that I had indeed done EXACTLY what had been asked of me by the immigration official in Fort Lauderdale… offered her the email to peruse and told her that I had missed my connection… that I had NO INTENTIONS of trying to stay in the US at all and that I just needed the opportunity to explain myself to someone.

She reluctantly looked up my case on the computer and answered.

“Most people here have queries on their green cards or resident permits. Because yours is an ESTA violation you;re going to have to wait”

“Violation?????” I retorted… “I’m not violating anything. I’m travelling on the exact same document every other guest entertainer travels on.” I was visibly shaken by her words.

“Let me see what I can find out” and she tap tap tapped away at her computer. And I retook my seat. And I heard nothing from her for an hour.

Two and a half hours after my initial arrival in purgatory I was millimetres away from completely losing my cool. There were no windows in the room… only one way in, one way out, one vending machine and one bathroom and the churning of anxiety had long since begun to spur in my gut. 

I have suffered with bouts of anxiousness for a few years now and though I am usually quite able to control it myself and talk myself out of an unnecessary panic.. my first step towards doing that is invariably to go out for air. This was not going to happen.

I reproached the tardy lady 

“Two and a half hours.”

That was all I said. 

And I just looked at her… now profusely sweating from my brow.. and she raised from her chair and went to speak to a colleague

Some twenty minutes later I was called into a side room where I began to AGAIN explain my circumstances to the fourth official of the day.

After a lengthy process of covering all the information I had so freely and openly shared with every other immigration officer I had encountered that day.

I had lost the will to argue my point. That I was not a mariner. I was not a crew member. I didn’t need a crew visa…. in the end I backed down and said “yes I’m sorry I’ll do that at the earliest possible opportunity” and finally he allowed me to leave.

It was well after 12 am

My bags had apparently already been sent to New Orleans without me. I had no clean clothes, no toothbrush or PJ’s. I was tired, sweaty, stressed and ill. I headed wearily to the American Airlines desk where the last member of staff was closing the counter for the day. I exhaled and started to regale my tale. Before I could even finish she had printed me a voucher for dinner, breakfast, a new flight and a hotel.

“Here honey." She smiled. "Get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning”

It wasn’t the airlines fault. I was amazed they were prepared to help me like that. I’d had visions of spending the next hour or so on the line to the emergency travel department at head office trying to re arrange everything over again.

“You have no idea how grateful i am” I whimpered. “This is so kind of you”

“I’m the supervisor. It has its perks.” and she winked and closed the desk.

This job has its ups and downs. And I know this amount of travelling and moving about is probably not a lifestyle neither I or my marriage could sustain long term. I often find myself wondering why I put myself through it. And then I think about the people. The people I meet on the ship every week. The passengers, the crew, the officers. 

And the taxi drivers, the dutch couple who let me share their cab, the gentle giant in the hotel and the airport staff like the amazing American Airlines lady. And I remember how incredibly fortunate I am. That I am allowed and encouraged to be part of strangers lives every day. That I get an opportunity, by means of sharing my show with them… to ever so minutely, give a little bit of something back.

When I lost my father suddenly in September I was angry at the world for a while.

Why him? Why us? He was only 64 and fit as a fiddle. And like anybody who is grieving, its a process that after only several months I am beginning to try to make sense of.

But then I think of everything my parents did for me, sacrificed for me to get me to this place. Yes I get stuck in airports, lose luggage, miss flights, catch more than the average share of airborne illnesses! But I get to do that ALL OVER THE WORLD because on that very first cruise some 15 years ago now, when I didn’t have the courage to go, my Mum and Dad booked and paid for the cruise so they could be there with me to support me.

So I don’t want to dwell on all the tough stuff. I share it with you cause its mildly amusing and I hope on occasion a little of an insight into what goes on in the crazy world of Guest Entertainers, because believe me, I am but one of hundreds of people treading this life path and experiencing this journey. Literally.

So in the most uplifting and warm hearted way I can possibly express, I dedicate this blog, both parts, (and the first one I have written since he died) to the memory of the most amazing man I ever knew. 

Someone very special to me told me “He was your Daddy and therefore he was the first man to ever have your heart”

And I know that because of him and my Mother, I have not only the best chance at life anyone could wish for, but that HE… my Dad… has THE BEST seat in the house now for every single performance.

Dedicated to the Memory of Bernard Curry 

5 March 1952- 17 September 2016

"Person Of Interest" Part One...

I started to strip off as I usually do… at the airport obviously.. not just randomly in the street or anything. Removing my outer layers of clothing, watches, belts, the obvious accoutrements. 

The security were ultra clear and concise with us today , as was to be expected. But where I would be anticipating a harsh demeanour and an authoritarian tone, I found it to be quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry, love” the lady behind the security belt expressed.

“We’re having to be a little stricter than usual with the liquids thing. You can’t use your own bag now. It has to be the clear resealable ones we provide… Look… here… if you take the lid off your hairspray we can make it fit”

I ws heading out for such a short trip I had elected to take only hand luggage. So trying to squeeze all of the toiletries and cosmetics I require on a cruise into a sandwich bag had proven to be difficult. 

I sacrificed the miniature shampoo and conditioner in lieu of the essential make up items and as I headed off to pass through the body scanner she shouted after me...

“Have a nice day!”

I turned to look at her. And for a split millisecond as our eyes met her expression said it all

. 

We are Manchester.

We smiled at each other and I walked away.

After being greeted with a similar approach by all of the staff in the airport that day, which was also the day after British Airways had experienced a system failure and there were tens of dozens of passengers stranded in Departures.. the mood wasn’t sombre, or tense, or even inciting discourse as i had expected. It was one of solidarity and understanding. 

I spend a large portion of my working life in airports and more often than not these days the experience is less than pleasant.

Waiting in line and packing and repacking my hand luggage is par for the course but my experiences in airports at the other side of the pond this winter season made the whole experience of travelling from one ship to another virtually impossible at times. But I’ll come back to that.

Today I watchfully observed the demeanour of the other passengers, the faces of the staff at the airport, and the general air of understanding that floated fluidly above the ordinarily chaotic scene at terminal three. But today wasn’t one of those days.

I approached the supervisors desk towards the back of the security area and ventured a tentative  “Excuse me” over the edge of the lofty and virtually unreachable vantage point from which he surveyed all he was required to manage.

I perched my chin on the edge and stood on the tips of my toes so he could see me. I hardly EVER wear flat shoes, but today I was anticipating a bit of a walk at the other end so I’d opted for a more sensible footwear option, bedazzled of course, but not so helpful in my current situation.

“He looked at me expectantly, with an expression that portrayed more of a ‘Please don’t give me any grief.. its hard enough today’ than a ‘Can I help you Madam?’ sort of face.

I took a breath

“I just wanted to say that I know you are operating under heightened security measures at the moment and understandably this is a hard time for everyone. I know you’re going to get a lot of complaints from people today because of this but I just wanted to say that I think you and your staff are doing a marvellous job”

His face immediately softened as I continued. His furrowed brow unfurled and he allowed the tension in his face to pass as I  finished my point.

“Everybody has been cheerful and helpful and I just wanted to let you know, just incase nobody else tells you that today. Thanks for all you do.”

As he replied my face suddenly began to flush and I instantly felt a bit of an idiot for being so open with a veritable stranger. I gathered my things and literally bolted with his reply ringing in my wake 

“Thank you… he offered… I’ll be sure to pass that on to the staff” And I legged it. 

Its a little over two weeks since the terrorist attack on Manchester’s concert arena. 22 died and 59 were injured.

 I live about 10 miles outside the centre but like many other Northerners and then subsequently Londoners, indeed Brits collectively this last week, I feel inextricably linked to every single person involved in the awful tragedies. Be it victim or survivor, family or observer. And the emergency services that responded so quickly and efficiently to what for them must have been one of the hardest nights of their lives. 

I know what its like to have tough times and to a large extent my own personal losses in the past half year have kept me from my writings. I felt unable to even attempt to bring humour into anyones life let alone try to share it with the world. But the people of Manchester have inspired me. And as I open my laptop for the first time in over six months to start my most recent rumination I dedicate this blog to them.

WE are Manchester.

As is usually the case for me I have spent the majority of the winter cruising season hopping in and out of the United States and the Caribbean manoeuvring my way from one vessel to the next, barely ever really spending any length of time in any one place. And as much as I love the US and in particular, Florida, I have had very little time there per say other than the odd hotel night in transit here and there and a short six day vacation with Steve seeing friends at the end of January. But disembarking the beautiful Celebrity Equinox in Fort Lauderdale on this occasion on my way to join the Celebrity Eclipse in Aruba proved decidedly more difficult than I had imagined. 

It appeared my frequent ‘in and out’ visits to the US on my visa waiver status had raised some alarm bells with immigration and CBP (Customs and Border Protection) and I had been flagged up as a ‘Person Of Interest’ 

Subsequently I had been ushered into a side room in the port before a brusque and statuesque lady official came inside to address me.

She left no doubt in my mind that she was less than impressed about my constant comings and goings in and out of the United States and whilst I had made it abundantly clear to her that I was only ever 'popping in’ on my way to another ship, she was quite adamant that I had, in her words “Been abusing the terms of my ESTA” (this is the visa waiver programme for Brits travelling to the United States)

Allegedly leaving the US to travel to the Caribbean wasn’t considered a 'significant enough departure' and I apparently needed to be in possession of a B1/B2 visa. 

I don’t mind telling you I was quaking in my wedges as I tried earnestly and fruitlessly to explain to the Grace Jones look alike that I was indeed only following the same course of action as any other guest entertainer in my position and that I was completely unaware of the visa prerequisite. I assured her I would rectify the situation at my earliest possible opportunity. 

This didn’t seem enough for ‘Angry Grace’ and my protestations were largely unheard. 

She was such a meanie. I could feel the hot tears beginning to well up in my already tired eyes. I genuinely thought she was about to deport me.

The last 15 years of my career flashed before my eyes as I panicked that everything I had worked so very hard for was about to be snatched from under my nose.

I allowed her to finish her spiel before i offered my explanation, muted and tentatively.

“I have three more cruises to complete before I have a month at home. I promise to book an appointment with the US Embassy in London the minute I exit this room. Please don’t deport me. I’ll lose my job. Its taken me 15 years. FIFTEEN YEARS to get here!!!”

“Who said anything about deportation?” she retorted. 

“But… But..” I whimpered

“I’ll stamp your passport but not for 90 days. Just for the time left until you leave for the UK. And you need to get a visa”

“I will I will” I answered, hurriedly collecting my possessions and following ‘Angry Grace’ back to the desk. 

In the car on the way to Miami airport I felt woeful. I allow myself an occasion self indulgent moment in this line of work… when I sometimes think about how life might be if I had chosen a more vanilla existence. I was headed to Curacao. And whilst I knew it to be a lovely Island, I would be spending two days in a hotel there alone. And with my new ‘Person of Interest’ experience looming over me I felt a little low and less than excited about my day.

I dragged my cases out of the ‘Uber' and to the check in desk where i wearily presented my passport to the attendant.

“This flight has been cancelled” She said. “Didn’t you receive the email?”

Befuddled I answered “No, my company book my travel. It wouldn’t come to me. What do you mean cancelled?”

“Yes you’ve been rebooked on the afternoon flight tomorrow and we have taken the liberty of booking you a hotel here in Miami. We apologise for the inconvenience” she offered.

As a complete knee-jerk reaction an excessively loud “YAAAAAYYYYYYYYY” spontaneously erupted from my lips before I caught myself and covered my mouth. People around me in the same situation were clearly distressed at the disruption to their travel arrangements but my automatic response was to cheer. I had friends in Miami. LOTS of friends. And now I would have a day to shoot about and see as many as I could. Everything happens for a reason I thought. And I skipped off with my vouchers to find my shuttle bus and call my pals.

It was a great day. A truly great day. I lunched with friends, shopped at Lincoln Road, made plans for dinner and took my first ever ‘Uber Pool’

If you’re unaware, ‘Uber' is very similar to a taxi service. You order the driver online, punch in your destination and a fully vetted person in their own vehicle turns up to take you where ever you ask to go. Its cheaper than taxi’s and though the drivers, especially in Miami don’t always speak English too well, I’ve never had a reason to complain. 'Uber Pool’ is where you do exactly as above but agree to share your journey with other possible passengers on the way. Its much cheaper and you meet some REAL characters.

I’d taken this option several times throughout the day and on my journey to meet my friends for dinner in North Miami ‘Josef’ the Uber driver proved to be a real hoot. Granted, he picked up and dropped off so many passengers on my journey that I was half an hour late but I met a pregnant nurse, a Brazilian honeymooning couple and a young Russian student on the way to meet his parents. He didn’t say much.

I had a blast and I think Josef did too. I’m pretty sure this job was as much a social life for him as a source of income. He had us in fits of laughter the whole journey. His constant declarations of “Come on lets go paaarrttaaayyy” may have given it away.

 This was a good day I thought. A really good day.

The next morning I rose to discover I had an email from the airline asking me to contact them about the days travel. I promptly called to be informed my 12.45pm flight would now not be leaving until 9.45pm but that I would still have to check in for the flight at the original time.

I tried to remain positive, drawing on the memories of the epic day I’d had before this and assuring myself I could busy myself for nine hours in the airport no problem.

As the day wore on so did my patience and the airport staff informed us that my onward flight from Aruba to Curacao had been cancelled and that the airline would be putting us in a hotel in Aruba.

I called my Curacao hotel and cancelled the reservation and dutifully boarded the plane.

Wearily I dozed until the landing in Aruba. This was a SERIOUSLY dilapidated plane. I forced myself to sleep to avoid thinking about the actual physical signs of rust in the fuselage and the decided lack of carpeting anywhere on the plane.

As we disembarked, now utterly exhausted an announcement over the public address system caused my ears to prick up.

“Passengers scheduled to fly to Curacao please wait outside the plane at the foot of the stairs after disembarking”

Confused I joined the group…..

The supervisor, trying desperately to organise the now exhausted passengers caught my eye and I asked him

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be on this flight. My flight was cancelled and the airline are booking me a hotel”

“No ma’am. The flight has been rescheduled. We have chartered a small plane to take you to Curacao tonight.”

“So theres no hotel here in Aruba for me?” I added

“No ma’am. You’ll be taken to Curacao very shortly.”

“But I’ve cancelled my room. And the Island is tiny. Its 1am now… will there even BE any taxi’s in the airport in Curacao at this time of night?”

“No ma’am probably not” he muttered sheepishly under his breath

“But I’m a woman travelling on  my own… with no transport and no accommodation. I’ve been awake 18 hours already. What am I supposed to do?” My voice now raised I implored him for a more suitable answer.

“i can’t help you. I’m sorry” he answered and began to walk away

At this point I could feel myself starting to sweat. That uncomfortable kind of inner heat where you feel you may well just turn green and burst out of your shirt.

Enraged, I now began to shout impatiently.

“YOU HAVE A DUTY OF CARE TO ME. YOU HAVE MESSED ME AROUND FOR TWO DAYS AND I HAVE PATIENTLY ACCEPTED ALL OF YOUR MISDEMEANOURS TO THIS POINT. BUT THIS IS BEYOND THE JOKE. YOU CANT DO THIS. YOU CANT. YOU HAVE TO HELP ME.IS THERE NO ONE YOU CAN CALL?"

But he was gone.

I stood there utterly bereft trying my best to weigh up the options available to me. It would be pointless to call my agent. It was 5am in the UK right now. How could he help me? I had HAD a hotel and cancelled it on the bum advice of the airline. And now I was stuck. With no idea where my luggage was and no idea where I was going to sleep tonight.

What was I going to do?

To be continued………..