Getting There

I thought I had it all sorted. My lovely wife Ali supplied the team mascot and he was duly christened and toasted (gin & whisky if you must ask). Ali said it was a mouse called Pip but I am calling it Gordon the Rat on honour of the proprietor of our favourite WEC watering hole. 

And the day has arrived. Some last minute work tasks get in the way of the final pack and so I am rushing at the last moment. Nearly 32 months of preparation and I make some silly errors right at the end. I order the taxi with about 2 hours to go and think that will be simple. Midday on a Thursday, no sweat. Turns out my bike bag won't fit in anything they have available so I have to get 'the minibus' which needs a phone around the local drivers who might have one available. I sweat a little as I wait for the callback. A simple thing like pre-booking would have taken all the hassle away and I flub it.  A bus is eventually found and I am away. 

Today I am trying to channel the spirit of my sister Caitriona. She is the only one I know who turns up to an airport 4 hours before the flight. I never saw the point of wasting time at an airport myself but today I resolve to be early, get a lounge pass and chill with a nice glass of something white. In the bus, I pull out the phone and buy a lounge pass for T3. Food and a drink included and far from the madding crowd sounds like just the ticket. £20...a bargain with my recently acquired REVOLUT premium card. I settle back and 'enjoy' the rattling minibus ride.

We arrive at T3 and then I discover my google search of TAP Portugal vs Terminals at Heathrow must have pulled up a bum search. My flight is departing from T2 but I trundle down the underpass on the 10 minute walk serene in the knowledge that I have time on my side and a nice restful glass waiting for me in the lounge. 

I check in and wave goodbye to my race bike (hopefully) securely packed in its sarcophagus and hope the baggage handlers will be kind. It is a lightweight carbon fibre thing which was more expensive than any car I have ever owned. I'm not sure that says much about any of the cars. But to lose the bike now when we are so close to the race would be gut wrenching. Plan B would have to be to pop down the Portuguese version of Halfords and see what was available...

Then I discover that my bargain £20 lounge access (loungepass.com) is only worth a £15 discount in a pub that I could just walk into in T2. Loungepass.com have nothing in T2 so travelers beware. Turns out REVLOUT who sold the loungepass have an equally slippery customer service chatbot. Despite the invitation to get a refund on the 'chat service' , the blasted thing is being willfully ignorant of simple requests of 'refund my lounge pass' and offers all sorts of useless crap about other services, This is going to take more time than I think I want to give it.

The flight is an hour late but that gives me time to carry out some retail therapy, and though Dixons have disappeared from our airports there is one establishment willing to sell me even more technology. 60 seconds of thinking about it sees me plunge for yet another GPS watch which I manage to rationalize to myself as a 'good deal' because it lasts about 15 time longer on a single charge than my apple iWatch. This would therefore provide effective navigation backup in the event that my primary GPS fails in the race. Done. Easiest sale the guy ever had I suppose. 

A nice flight to Lisbon and a sunset touchdown. The city looks warm and inviting though ominously hilly from the air and I am looking forward to a cold beer and a shower and hooking up with my WEC riding buddy Chris Crane who has been in Portugal since Tuesday, 

Whilst waiting anxiously for my bike bike bag to arrive on the oversize luggage rack, I see this little gem. Someone has wrapped a painting in a single sheet of bubble wrap and consigned it to the baggage handling system.....at it appears to have made it! Hurrah for baggage handlers I think, and out pops my bike bag with only minor scuffs. Maybe next time I should just wrap it in bubble wrap like the optimistic art lover.