Oslo, Norway
19 July 2013
Ever since an airline lost my bag for a few days enroute to Brasil I have an aversion to checking bags in. I always try and wangle it as hand luggage and today is no exception. My rucksack, all 22kg of it and the size of a small child, is quite nifty. It has a separate day sack which unzips from the main body and the shoulder straps can be zipped away to make it look like a holdall.
I swipe my boarding pass through the security gate but it doesn’t seem to work. The assistant can’t assist so she lets me through to the Fast Track lane so an officious woman can visually check my boarding pass. Officious woman immediately says that my rucksack is too big and won’t let me through.
An argument ensues. I lose. I’m made to either check in rucksack or obtain a “Cabin baggage” tag from SAS before she’ll allow me to proceed to security. Huffing and puffing I queue for the SAS check-in. Two women in front are given “Delivery at Aircraft” tags as they’re told the aircraft is a small one. Someone once said that Luck is where Determination meets Opportunity. I’m determined and I see an opportunity. Obtain new boarding card that will scan properly and ask for a “Delivery at Aircraft” tag (which means I can take bag to aircraft steps, drop it off and collect at aircraft steps on arrival – it’s a great system used on a lot of business flights with smaller aircraft….for those that don’t know). She asks if I’ve got one of those small trolley bags. The 22kg rucksack the size of a small child is deliberately out of sight under the counter. I confirm that I have and she gives me a tag.
Return to the security entrance gates and pass through unhindered. Hot and bothered, huffing and puffing I queue for X-ray. Decant all my liquids and start putting them in my 1 litre(ish) plastic bag when the girl says it’s not necessary – I can leave them in a Tupperware box I’ve brought to prevent the DEET mozzie-rep from being squashed and leaking and corroding everything it touches. Rucksack, day sack and liquids pass through X-ray.
Annoyingly, the liquids tray is sidelined for further scrutiny and I wait for 15 mins whilst they interrogate two Australian octogenarians on their pills and potions – clearly not terrorists.
Huffing and puffing I wait. And wait. Eventually, my liquids are inspected. Transpires the only reason they’ve been sidelined is because they’re not in a 1 litre plastic bag. I huff and I puff and point out that the girl said it was OK. My 1 litre(ish) plastic bag is wide and squat and I know all my liquids will fit. Unfortunately, they discard my bag and use their own which is a stupid design of bag as it’s tall and narrow. The bloke struggles to fit in all my liquids and he unpacks and repacks the bag a few times trying different permutations of first in etc. I’ve 2 x 100ml mozzie rep bottles, 1 x 100ml toothpaste, 2 x deo sticks, 2 x bite cream, and a sunscreen. The deo sticks come out and I can see they’re going to be discarded to comply with the “It’s got to be a sealed bag” routine. The bloke is clearly getting fed up with this little rigmarole and simply looks up at me and says, “I’ll think we’ll call that a solid, Sir.” pointing at the deo sticks (technically they’re a liquid) and with that seals the bag without them. At last some common sense!!! Again re-iterate that the girl said it was OK and he remarks, “I’ll have a quiet word in her shell like” and returns all the liquids and off I go.
Promptly find something to eat and the molten cheese in my toastie spot welds itself to the roof of my mouth. In pain, I enjoy the rest of my breakfast……
The aircraft turns out to be a normal 737 and I manage to pass my rucksack through boarding and onto the flight where it enjoys prime position in the overhead locker. Determination…..opportunity…..
Convinced I was sitting in front of the actor that played the old political adviser to the female Prime Minister in Borgen (that Danish political drama on BBC4) – you know, the old one with the beard that had a heart attack…..
Arrive Oslo, which is surprisingly hot. Hotel reception book me a table at a fish restaurant for 8pm but I miss my tram and the next one isn’t until 8.15pm. Nip back to hotel to ask them to ring restaurant to change it to 8.30pm. As I’m in the queue for reception, a couple arrive to check in. They look familiar. Racking my brains trying to think of their names and whether it’s them or not when receptionist asks how she can help. As I explain, their name pops into my head just as I see husband out of the corner of my eye gesticulate to his wife pointing at me. We both look at each other simultaneously and realise we do indeed know each other. We met on a trip to Vietnam, 11 years ago. Quick meet and greet but I have to nip off for my next tram so we agree to meet in the morning for a coffee and catch up. Small world!
Well, as you would expect in the city of Edvard Munch…….it’s been a Scream!
