South Africa We've Landed
31st March 2009
As we disembarked the plane, crumpled and creased after 12 hours of flying south, I turned to my travel companion and said: “Well I can safely say that I never thought I’d be strolling through Johannesburg airport with Matthew Pinsent.” But I was and I did, all the way to the queue for passport control which stopped us in our tracks, for quite some time.
At least 4 other long haul flights had landed within minutes of us, causing consternation to all the new arrivals. It’s that age-old conundrum; you know the one. Whether you’re in a traffic jam, supermarket queue or standing in line with post-flight swollen ankles, clutching your passport, waiting to be granted entry into a country thousands of miles from home: which queue is going to clear quicker? And why, when people are arriving in their hundreds, don’t the authorities open up all of the desks? After all, they do at the supermarkets.
“Bing bong, would all available cashiers please return to their tills.”
“Bing bong, would all available customs officials please return to their booths and help the tired travellers on their way.”
“Bing Bong, no chance. I’m off on a break.”
What? No! Really? Is she really closing? With all of these people waiting and backed up to the escalator? We’ll all topple like dominoes if any more come down.
So, with only 3 counters open for our section of the queue, we anxiously watched as our people failed to move to the vacated counter quickly enough, therefore leaving an opening for the person at the front of the rival queue to jump in and take control of our escape route to the baggage hall. As the minutes passed our cries of: “go go go,” “keep your eyes on the prize” and “oh no, the space cadets have lost us our place” became livelier and louder. But we didn’t move any faster.
Needless to say, we made it through customs, experienced the usual joy that you get when you’re reunited with your suitcase and felt that extra tingle of excitement when we spotted the taxi driver. For the record, Matthew won the: spot the name board game as we emerged into arrivals.
Now we’re ensconced in our hotel, planning the week ahead, occasionally looking up from our makeshift office on the verandah. It’s sunny, mid 20s and a long way from London. Just how I like it!
At least 4 other long haul flights had landed within minutes of us, causing consternation to all the new arrivals. It’s that age-old conundrum; you know the one. Whether you’re in a traffic jam, supermarket queue or standing in line with post-flight swollen ankles, clutching your passport, waiting to be granted entry into a country thousands of miles from home: which queue is going to clear quicker? And why, when people are arriving in their hundreds, don’t the authorities open up all of the desks? After all, they do at the supermarkets.
“Bing bong, would all available cashiers please return to their tills.”
“Bing bong, would all available customs officials please return to their booths and help the tired travellers on their way.”
“Bing Bong, no chance. I’m off on a break.”
What? No! Really? Is she really closing? With all of these people waiting and backed up to the escalator? We’ll all topple like dominoes if any more come down.
So, with only 3 counters open for our section of the queue, we anxiously watched as our people failed to move to the vacated counter quickly enough, therefore leaving an opening for the person at the front of the rival queue to jump in and take control of our escape route to the baggage hall. As the minutes passed our cries of: “go go go,” “keep your eyes on the prize” and “oh no, the space cadets have lost us our place” became livelier and louder. But we didn’t move any faster.
Needless to say, we made it through customs, experienced the usual joy that you get when you’re reunited with your suitcase and felt that extra tingle of excitement when we spotted the taxi driver. For the record, Matthew won the: spot the name board game as we emerged into arrivals.
Now we’re ensconced in our hotel, planning the week ahead, occasionally looking up from our makeshift office on the verandah. It’s sunny, mid 20s and a long way from London. Just how I like it!