Guys, I haven’t had a holiday in which I’ve been able to just enjoy some sunshine and laze about by a swimming pool for a week in more than a year, and my goodness, do I need a holiday.
My dad lives in Bulgaria, and last year him and my stepmother welcomed my youngest little brother, so I took this chance of having my last ever 4 month long summer holiday to go away, wind down, and reset, as well as seeing the new baby, and my other three-year-old half brother.
Yesterday at 2pm, I got myself ready and headed to the airport in Glasgow (not before being on the bus for 5 minutes and realising I had forgotten my passport, thus having to get the bus back to my house and going back the same way again. (I don’t know why these things happen to me, I thought I was pretty well organised. I SHOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED TO TRAVEL MYSELF OKAY?!)
I did make it to the airport on time, thank goodness, and was able to make it through security with ease, not even beeping as I went through the scanner even though I had my watch and jewellery on!
*Mini win for C-woo!*
One large glass of wine, and some food later, I found myself sitting in an aisle seat, and though it was only 6pm, I tried to fall asleep as quickly as I could possibly nod off into Dreamland. Why? I have a history of being violently airsick sooooooo the less vomit that came out of my mouth, the better.
Unfortunately, as I was flying with Ryanair, the woman in the aisle seat opposite me had been assigned a seat miles away from her boyfriend.
Don’t get me wrong, I am very attached to my other half, and if I could, of course I’d sit next to him on a flight!
This couple, however, took the piss.
The guy came over to the girl as soon as the ‘fasten-your-seatbelt’ signs were switched off, and stood in the aisle. For the. full. four. hours.
What the heck?!
Basically, be in love if you want to be, I really don’t mind, in fact, I’m overjoyed you’ve found someone you love so much you’re willing to stand up for the duration of a 4 hour flight for. But because the guy was in the aisle, every single time people tried to get by- especially the flight attendants and their food trollies- they just couldn’t. They had to work their way around the guy, inevitably hitting me on the head with some obscure part of their body. Four hours this happened for. Four hours I could’ve been dreaming about sunshine and margaritas.
I bit my tongue, let it happen, and buried myself in my book, trying to ignore the rage that was slowly threatening to erupt from me.
At last. At last the ordeal ended.
Ryanair though, of course, so the flight landed an hour later than expected, so I missed my 00:30 bus to Dryanovo.
It’s okay guys, as my dad has said to me since I was old enough to remotely understand what he was on about-‘If it wasn’t for bad luck, we would have no luck at all.’
It would have been silly of me to assume everything was going to go swimmingly, so I took it in my stride, phoned my stepmum’s sister, who lived in Sofia, the capital, and she kindly allowed me to stay at her for the night. Good thing to, otherwise I faced a six hour wait at the bus station in the middle of the night. On my own. No thanks.
I was fed, watered, met my little step-cousin (lil cutie-pie by the way) and given a bed.
I got a wholesome three hour sleep (ha!) before sleeping in and having to rush to the bus station… and thank goodness my stepmum’s sister was with me cos C don’t speak no Bulgarian. 💁🏻
And here I am, sitting on a cramped coach with a three hour journey ahead of me because my dad decided ten years ago to live in the middle of nowhere.
But, after this is over, I have a week of cocktails, swimming, and burning sun to look forward to, and I cannot be more excited!