The flight to Russia was incredibly stressful. The plane arrived in Istanbul half an hour late: I only had an hour to make the transfer in the first place! I sprinted off the plane and got on to the bus waiting to take us to the gate quick as a flash. However, some fat people on the flight decided to tuck into my rapidly-diminishing minutes by slowly flobbing down the steps.
When I finally got to the transfer queue, there were about a hundred people ahead of me. This called for a little disarming charm - I strode confidently up to the man at the first check point, pointed at my boarding pass, and stunned him with the line, 'Errr, my flight! Very soon!'. This display of eloquence got me put right to the front of the line. Despite this, I still had to lumber up to the boarding gate in the quickest run I could manage. I made it on to the flight just before they were going to close the gate.
As I walked down the plane, a perfect example of a big red sweaty Englishwoman, I was met with hostile faces. I don't think I endeared myself to the Russian sensibility by panting and nervously smiling my way down the aisle.
As for the journey, after sweating in my seat for the first half an hour, I later managed to spill water in to the lap of the small boy sat next to me. His large, intimidating mother did not look best pleased.
