AKA - The Taxi Rank That Tried to steal Christmas
Running amok
“Where’s the damn taxi!? It was supposed to be here ten minutes ago!” I ask anxiously.
“Honey, Mila needs a nappy change. I think she’s done a kaki.” comes Zsuzsa’s unorthodox reply.
“Daddy!” says Mila, excitedly.
Oh yes. She’s just started saying “Daddy” as opposed to her previous word of choice, “Dadda”. But I’m determined to not be thrown off course by my confusing women. I continue with my current topic of choice.
“We’re going to miss our flight! I can’t believe this. I specifically booked it for ten to give us time to get to Heathrow.”
“Have you seen the wipes?” continues Zsuzsa, stubbornly.
“Anya!” screams Mila.
“Hi? My name’s Gareth. I booked a taxi last night. It should have been here ten minutes ago.”
“I can’t believe this. I left the wipes here on the table, but now they’re not here. Where are they?”
“Heathrow. We need to be at the airport in forty minutes time or we’ll miss our flight to Budapest and Christmas will be ruined! Please don’t ruin Christmas. Um…terminal three I think.”
“Honey! Where are the wipes?”
“Hold on one second. What?”
“The wipes! Mila’s done a kaki!”
“Er…Have you looked on the table.”
“They’re not on the table!”
Mila tugs my trouser leg. I glance at her.
“Have you done a shit little lady? What? No. Of course not you! I was talking to my daughter. What do you mean you can’t find our booking!?…I was being rhetorical!…Great! That’s just great! We’re going to miss our flight! Are you happy about that? Are you happy about ruining Christmas”
“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” bellows Mila.
“Oh sweetheart! Honey! Mila’s fallen over!” exclaims Zsuzsa, concerned.
“Oh dear….Can you deal with it baby? I’m trying to sort the shitting taxi out!”
“Where is it?”, Zsuzsa sighs.
“Have you tried the table?” I reply.
“I’m talking about the taxi! Also, the wipes are not on the table! I’ve told you that already!”
“They’ve mislaid the booking, but don’t worry. I’ll sort it.”
Back to the soulless taxi orc.
“Look. This is a shocker. WE NEED A TAXI NOW! Ten minutes? No! NOW! Do you hear me? Don’t go sending me a taxi in ten minutes!”
Fifteen minutes later and the taxi arrives. Just one hour later and we pull up at Heathrow Airport. We’re at check-in with a world record number of bags.
Opened Shortlist magazine whilst on the flight and...it's only bloody me in the magazine! Zsuzsa didn't seem as surprised or as impressed about this as I was.
“Do you have any luggage to check-in?” asks the BA lady behind the counter.
“We have all the luggage in the entire world to check in.” I reply pointing at the mountain of bags.
“But you’re booking doesn’t have checked-in luggage.”
Oh. My. God.
“Yes it does!”
“Also we only have bookings for you and your wife, not your baby.” continues the BA lady.
My eyes roll back in to my skull.
“What’s up honey?”
“Nothing baby.”
Satisfied, Zsuzsa wanders off with Mila.
Deep breath.
“Listen…er…Alice We have a booking for the three of us. Me, my wife, our daughter and all our luggage! Don’t do this to me. Please, just sort this shit out. Your computer is wrong. Trust me.”
“One moment.”
“What’s the hold up honey?”asks Zsuzsa, reappearing from thin air.
“Oh, er, just some admin stuff. It’s fine.”
“Hello? It’s Alice. Could you check a booking? According to my system they don’t have check in luggage and their infant also isn’t showing.”
“We do have luggage!”
“Sorry sir. One moment please. I’m just sorting it out for you.”
“Waaaaaaaaa!” says Mila, whilst lying on the floor.
Anyway, five hours later, following an hour and a half delay, and we finally make it to Budapest, along with all of our luggage and our tiny lady. We jump in a taxi and make our way across the freezing cold, Christmassy city, towards our apartment. We carry all of the luggage in the entire world and a sleeping child from our taxi, up a flight of stairs, turn the key, open the door and enter.
We’ve made it.
“Hello again Budapest. Did you miss us?”
Zsuzsa trots off to the bedroom. I put our sleeping daughter down and collapse on the sofa.
…
“Honey. The heating’s not working!”
“Oh for f….!”
Arrive in Budapest, hand Mila to the grandparents, leg it to the thermal baths.