SilverBreeze
Well-Known Member
or, Murphy's Law when commissioning a new boat.
The Plan: Myself, the two owners and three crew will meet at Dublin Airport for an 0620 Ryanair flight to La Rochelle and thence to their shiny new and almost-commissioned Dufour 385.
We will arrive at the boat at 0915, dump the bags and run to Le Bar de la Marina for coffee and croissants.
We have in our bags lots and lots and lots of things for the new boat. The local chandlery has a million more pre-ordered items awaiting our collection. I cheerily offered: "I have space in my bag for the gazillion candle power spotlight with 12v and 220v chargers, no problem." We check in and proceed to the gate.
It is the morning of the Munster v Biarritz rugby match at Cardiff. Half of Ireland are boarding flights. We have a long and slow and sweaty troop through security and to the gate. The gate is noisy as cheerful Munstermen mingle. It was only at the last minute before boarding I heard the tannoy say "Mr Silver Breeze, please go to the Ryanair courtesy desk in the departure gate."
I think: "Oh [--word removed--]," and "There's another oxymoron," and begin to run. The Ryanair waif at the desk says "There is a problem with your luggage, you must go to baggage reclaim to meet a Ryanair representative and the MAN from SECURITY!" I run. I vault an empty arrivals immigration post and stumble down the frozen escalator to the empty baggage claim area.
Another Ryanair waif is there. "Would you be Mr. Breeze?" she asked. "I would," I said. "Follow me," she said. In a corner, in a cubicle, was a large and beefy MAN from SECURITY. "Are these your bags?" he asked. "They are," I said. "Open this one, please," he said, pointing to the big red Gill sailbag and showing me a colour photo of the bag scan, with a large lump in the middle.
"It's only a torch," I said, and helpfully switched it on to illuminate the dark corner of the cubicle. "It has a wet cell battery," he said, "You can't have it on the plane."
"Fine," I said, "You keep it, give it a long and happy life, I have a plane to catch."
"Sorry sir," said the Ryanair waif, "Your flight has closed, you must leave the arrivals area and return to the main airport hall." The MAN from SECURITY smiled and his face had the glint of a coffin lid in moonlight.
Thus far, I have learned: You cannot carry a gazillion candle power torch on an airplane if it has a wet cell battery. I did not know that. I had previously learned: You can carry a lifejacket with 33 gram CO2 gas bottle on Ryanair, just tell them in advance.
Out I go, into the maelstrom. More Munstermen. Many of them. I notice an 0930 Ryanair flight to Biarritz listed on the departure board. I think: "I know where that is, I can take the flight and then train to La Rochelle and catch up with the owners and crew."
Humping my two bags and carry-on rucksack, I make my way to the Ryanair ticket desk. Waif Number Three asks: "Can I help you?" "Yes please, I need a seat on the 0930 flight to Biarritz." She smiled sweetly, tapped at her computer and said, "Oh, there is a seat for you!"
But her eyes gave it away: "I'm gonna pillage your pocket, you dumb moron." "That will be 235 euro, cash." "Can I leave my bags here," I asked, "while I run to the DrinkLink machine?" "Of course," she said.
I got my ticket, queued for checkin, rejoined the long and sweaty file to security and off to the departure gate. More Munstermen. I asked one "Why are you going to Biarritz?" "We couldn't get tickets to Cardiff, so we'll go to Biarritz for the weekend and party on their home ground, for the craic!" The flight was...merry.
At Biarritz, a nice small airport, there was a great mingle of Munstermen and Biarritzfolk, all showing their colours. I gathered my bags, hailed a taxi and said: "Le gare, si'l vous plait."
"The train staion?" he asked, in perfect English, "no problem." "Why are all the Biarritz supporters at the airport arrivals?" I asked. "Three flights were turned back from Cardiff this morning because of high winds. They must watch the match at home on television," he explained.
Fast forward: two trains, arrived in La Rochelle at 1900, met owners and crew, dumped bags, good meal, nice wine.
More of the "commission a new boat" later, many problems encountered, if you are interested.
The Plan: Myself, the two owners and three crew will meet at Dublin Airport for an 0620 Ryanair flight to La Rochelle and thence to their shiny new and almost-commissioned Dufour 385.
We will arrive at the boat at 0915, dump the bags and run to Le Bar de la Marina for coffee and croissants.
We have in our bags lots and lots and lots of things for the new boat. The local chandlery has a million more pre-ordered items awaiting our collection. I cheerily offered: "I have space in my bag for the gazillion candle power spotlight with 12v and 220v chargers, no problem." We check in and proceed to the gate.
It is the morning of the Munster v Biarritz rugby match at Cardiff. Half of Ireland are boarding flights. We have a long and slow and sweaty troop through security and to the gate. The gate is noisy as cheerful Munstermen mingle. It was only at the last minute before boarding I heard the tannoy say "Mr Silver Breeze, please go to the Ryanair courtesy desk in the departure gate."
I think: "Oh [--word removed--]," and "There's another oxymoron," and begin to run. The Ryanair waif at the desk says "There is a problem with your luggage, you must go to baggage reclaim to meet a Ryanair representative and the MAN from SECURITY!" I run. I vault an empty arrivals immigration post and stumble down the frozen escalator to the empty baggage claim area.
Another Ryanair waif is there. "Would you be Mr. Breeze?" she asked. "I would," I said. "Follow me," she said. In a corner, in a cubicle, was a large and beefy MAN from SECURITY. "Are these your bags?" he asked. "They are," I said. "Open this one, please," he said, pointing to the big red Gill sailbag and showing me a colour photo of the bag scan, with a large lump in the middle.
"It's only a torch," I said, and helpfully switched it on to illuminate the dark corner of the cubicle. "It has a wet cell battery," he said, "You can't have it on the plane."
"Fine," I said, "You keep it, give it a long and happy life, I have a plane to catch."
"Sorry sir," said the Ryanair waif, "Your flight has closed, you must leave the arrivals area and return to the main airport hall." The MAN from SECURITY smiled and his face had the glint of a coffin lid in moonlight.
Thus far, I have learned: You cannot carry a gazillion candle power torch on an airplane if it has a wet cell battery. I did not know that. I had previously learned: You can carry a lifejacket with 33 gram CO2 gas bottle on Ryanair, just tell them in advance.
Out I go, into the maelstrom. More Munstermen. Many of them. I notice an 0930 Ryanair flight to Biarritz listed on the departure board. I think: "I know where that is, I can take the flight and then train to La Rochelle and catch up with the owners and crew."
Humping my two bags and carry-on rucksack, I make my way to the Ryanair ticket desk. Waif Number Three asks: "Can I help you?" "Yes please, I need a seat on the 0930 flight to Biarritz." She smiled sweetly, tapped at her computer and said, "Oh, there is a seat for you!"
But her eyes gave it away: "I'm gonna pillage your pocket, you dumb moron." "That will be 235 euro, cash." "Can I leave my bags here," I asked, "while I run to the DrinkLink machine?" "Of course," she said.
I got my ticket, queued for checkin, rejoined the long and sweaty file to security and off to the departure gate. More Munstermen. I asked one "Why are you going to Biarritz?" "We couldn't get tickets to Cardiff, so we'll go to Biarritz for the weekend and party on their home ground, for the craic!" The flight was...merry.
At Biarritz, a nice small airport, there was a great mingle of Munstermen and Biarritzfolk, all showing their colours. I gathered my bags, hailed a taxi and said: "Le gare, si'l vous plait."
"The train staion?" he asked, in perfect English, "no problem." "Why are all the Biarritz supporters at the airport arrivals?" I asked. "Three flights were turned back from Cardiff this morning because of high winds. They must watch the match at home on television," he explained.
Fast forward: two trains, arrived in La Rochelle at 1900, met owners and crew, dumped bags, good meal, nice wine.
More of the "commission a new boat" later, many problems encountered, if you are interested.
