A weekly ode to the joys of moaning about your holiday, by Tim Roxborogh
So, this happened this morning. A colleague who's been loudly and mightily proudly counting down to her Hawaiian holiday for so long that all her co-workers feel vested in the trip, nearly missed her plane. Sort of. Everyone in the office knew she was flying out on Saturday, but after all these months, it took a more pointed inquiry to save the day (literally).
"What time's your flight?" was the innocuous enough question. When the response came back as being "midnight on Saturday", thank the travel gods somebody said, "Are you sure that's Saturday then, as opposed to Friday night?"
A panicky review of the emailed flight itinerary soon revealed what I've heard more times than I can count. They'd stuffed up and midnight on Saturday is actually Friday night as far as pesky things like airport timetables and, you know, calendars, are concerned. And because it's a universal truth that our brains can't conceive of heading to the airport the day before we fly out, my work friend was going to be attempting a check-in approximately 21 hours after the plane to paradise had left.
Crisis averted, but the near-fiasco must undoubtedly draw our attention to Gladys Knight & The Pips most famous song, Midnight Train To Georgia. Given the ubiquity of the song, not to mention the fact it was originally called Midnight Plane To Houston (true story), how many people booked on midnight trains and planes over the years have been humming this song at the precise moment they learn they're a day too late? Good times.