The Welshman’s Curse
So, I arrive at Larnaka airport, 2.30 – right on time. Feeling rather sleepy, and ready to get on the plane … And as I’m staring up at the board, I can’t see my flight anywhere.
I pull my ticket out of my bag, and double check the flight number. I look back at the screen – oh there it is, under “new time”. Oh yes, my flight has been delayed by 3 hours for some unknown reason, and will now be leaving at 7.45, instead of 4.30. I wish I was in bed 
Now, about 5 hours ago, I was sitting down to dinner with a very nice Welsh man, in the restaurant downstairs at the hotel. “You have to get here at 7, you see”, he says in a very thick welsh accent, “that’s when they open the restaurant, and it gets rather busy after that”. We get onto the subject of flights, and finally I find someone who’s leaving (though not today) at stupid o’clock in the morning. “I was speaking to a couple the other day in the bar here. They were telling me that their flight was delayed by 3 hours” he said, “I’ve been coming here for 10 years now, I’ve never had a delay yet”. “Don’t say that” I replied, “you’re really just digging the knife in an twisting it round, aren’t you?”. He laughed. I swear he jinxed my flight.
Well now I know, Mr Welsh Man. You come back to the Ari Nosa, or whatever that hotel just next door is called. And you do it every May, and every October. So you better watch out in May. Because I’m going to be the one standing at the end of the runway, running towards the plane, screaming “you can’t leave yet!!”
Yes, my flight is delayed. And anyone wondering if I’m back yet who hasn’t checked the flight timetables. I’ll be back around 10.30. Ho hum. Just 5 more hours to kill in Larnaca airport Mind you, the GPRS wasn’t playing nicely earlier, so posting a warning here probably won’t be very useful if I can’t post it until I get back
At least they were kind enough to provide me with one of those free sandwich and “refreshments” vouchers. Bastards.
