If you ever find yourself in the Marco Polo Lounge at Marco Polo Airport (Marco Polo would have been impressed) just watch you don’t slip on the carpet. They have polished floors covered with very nice rugs. Look very nice and designed to reinforce the Darwin theory whereby those not destined to pass on their genes slip and do themselves and injury.
Rest assured that not only have I already successfully passed on my genes but was also able to draw on balance and recovery skills inherited from my own parents to stay upright and conscious.
A miserable wet day in Venezia is a good choice to leave. We are bound for the Isle of Man somewhere guaranteed to be even more miserable and wet than Venice but somewhere I am able to call home.There are only two other people in this part of the lounge, plus an unattended Louis Vuitton bag. I got the attendant to remove the bag. Better safe than sorry.
Whether it is a genuine LV I know and care not. There are two schools of thought regarding this bag. Either it is genuine and the person who owns it is so rich that forgetting their very expensive carry on luggage means nothing to them. Alternatively it isn’t genuine and some poseur has just carelessly forgotten it. You may also make up your own alternative scenario. I care not.
Some bloke has now returned with the bag. There was an announcement, in Italian. I think it’s a fake. He is a normal looking guy.
This is going to be quite a long day. We are at the airport ages before we need to because I thought it was a 11.30am flight whereas it is actually 12.30. At least we have the comfort of the lounge in which to sit and relax.
When we get to Gatwick we have a 4 hour layover. This is made worse by the fact that we won’t be able to check in our luggage with Easyjet until 2 hours before the flight. So 2 hours of the 4 will involve hanging around the desert that is the check in area. Urgharoonie (that’s for the Davies kids).
Whoever said international travel is glamorous. Not moi.
Tags: diary