Budapest 2023 Chapter 1 - Plane Sailing

Rob C
Jun 24, 2023
7 min read

Updated: Mar 24, 2024

Welcome Reader! Hunker down and get comfy as I regale you with tales from distant shores. A warning: I will try and refrain from using the F and C bombs but expect other colourful language, blasphemy and sometimes intensely scatalogical detail.

09:00 All are packed and ready to go. 4 cases of varying sizes, some packed to bursting point. One in particular is so heavy it has affected the earth's gravitational pull. It's Lisa's. 21kg. My case weighs in at a cool 14kg. Kids are 10kg a piece. That's the stats people - deal with them as you will.

Ding Dong

StuCab has arrived. It's 09:15 and we have a bit of time to sit around and natter. Baggage drop opens at 10:30 so plenty of time.

We start talking about blogging and Lisa remarks that Toby should have done one for his sailing adventure. "He could tell us all about hoisting the membrane and all that" she says. That's going in the blog we say. I'm no sailor but I know that's horse shit.

The conversation goes on in various directions. "Elise is so Bert-core" Lizzie says. "I must find my travel string" Lisa says.

We pack the Juke. It's a brief game of luggage Tetris but get 3 in the boot and the last between my legs. Stu has compiled a little holiday playlist starting with "Budapest", then Madonna's "Holiday", then that DJ Sven/MC Miker-G version. John Denver comes on. He died in a plane crash - cheers Stu. The playlist finishes with "Airport" by The Motors and we're all good. Other occurrences: Stu's Cartman impression (amazing), Lisa's story about the Titanic which she starts and then says "oh hang on I've forgotten it", and a brief discussion about UK geography where Lisa states that England goes as far as Manchester but that's it.

We arrive at the drop off at Heathrow T3, StuCab unloads The Behemoth case, and we get the rest. We wave The Duke of the Juke off.

A brief glimpse of the info board tells us Zone E. We enter the Zone E baggage drop and after a couple of mins orientating see that a BA self bag drop zone is near but not sure we can use. I ask attendant, and she says go ahead. Bosh! - within minutes we're 55kg lighter and heading upstairs to security.

Security is a breeze. Well, apart from Lizzie making the detector machine buzz, and as a consequence has to enter the fondling chamber. Els remarks loudly "Lizzie's getting touched up"; the toucher-upper hears this and smirks as she brings the whole sordid affair to an close.

10:34 We're in the departures lounge. Shitting-Christ that was quick. This pleases us all immensely. It's time for breakfast. This pleases me immensely.

Departures is busy AF. There's a queue outside all food places we can see. We pass WH Smith and Lisa declares she needs a magazine, Lizzie chucks a pack of Werther's in my hand and then we spend several minutes trying to find the till.

Toilet stop no.1 ensues (Lisa). I then locate the place Kath recommended for brekky which is nicely tucked away from the throng. EL & N is decorated in pink, and we're quickly seated in a booth. Happy days. I go for Eggs Florentine, Lisa has a cheese toastie (kids meal), Els has chips. Lizzie wanted something but it was not available.

After brekky we find a spot to sit. Toilet stop no.2 ensues (Rob and Els). My tummy is gurgling which generally means I need a shit. Out of about 30 cubicles, only one is free and as I approach, a Sikh toilet attendant comes out of it with a grimace. As I pass I can't help but look. It's a full-on turd-soup about to breach the bowl. I see the tip of a freshly pinched loaf, presumably a floater at the surface. Damn my eyes!

Poo is now officially on pause, I decide to slash as the consolation prize. Outside the toilet zone I meet Els and she announced that she had an inverse experience - went for a whizz but decided to drop a deuce. She said there may have been farting involved but had her headphones on so who's to know?

12:20 It's near plane time and I use my gay little plane tracker to guess which plane about to land is ours. I take a punt, and that one lands and goes to a remote part of the airfield. Gives us an idea of which gate it will be at least. Toilet stop 3 ensues (Lisa, Lizzie, Els) and I check the board for the gate whilst they expel some more waste product. My poops can wait.

Gate 24 is near, but we get to ride the travelator. Liz and I and are reminded of Fern Brady et al doing that task on TM. We arrive, there's not many seats this side of the glass wall but the other side has lots. Screen at the entry booth says "gate open", we walk straight into wrong bit (Groups 1-3, we're Group 4) so quickly scurry out to the right line, no biggy. We're in the gate 24e departure area in no time. It's warm. About 5 mins later we're boarding. A man leaves his laptop bag, attendant gets it for him. 3 buses arrive, we're on bus 2 and sit at the back like naughty children. Aircon is on - beyudiful. Being last off the bus means I can happily guff into the seat cushion without any nostrils twitching or people fainting/vomiting. The paused poo is well up the pipe, no shart risk here. I'll unload on Hungarian soil later.

Up the stairs, head for the back of plane, row 29, bosh we're in. There's some hanging around due to caterers effing about. It's an A320 with three seats either side of the aisle. The neuro-diverse crew (hereafter referred to as ND3) sit together. No-one next to me, and no-one behind us, lovely. Just a lady next to window, with me by the aisle.

14:45 We're airborne. That took a while but I wrote the preceding blog words during the wait.

Pretzels are dispensed. The flight attendant gives the girls loads, sweeeeet. Window lady is asleep. The high pitched whistling air noise is occasionally punctuated with a huge snorey-snort from her. I put my earphones in and hit active-noise-cancelling. That 90% silences whistle and snort. Yeah boi. Spotify on: oh forgot to download music, what's already there? Just Placebo or John Tejada (pronounced Tehada I believe). Placebo it is - I'll save the bleep music for later. We buy snacks for girls. Toilet queue is in full swing now, must be something in the water. No-one has been up for a second go; I'm keeping count. Hang on, olive jeggings woman is back. Oh she's with a kid this time, I'll let you off. 10 mins to land is announced and a woman in high waisted sky blue trousers runs toward the toilet. This is her third go. Must have the shits. Rest of flight is uneventful.

We leave the plane and head for passport control. One of the border guards shouts loudly at a woman for going the wrong way. The other two guards seem more placid. Border bitch then shouts for some people to come forward because they dithered for a nano second. We decide to go up in pairs. Me and Liz get border bitch. We say nothing. She takes her sweet ass time. The encounter is non-eventful and we regroup and head for baggage hall. All in all it's been a very straightforward journey. Plain sailing.

Baggage hall is quick. Out through customs, a quick piss, and then we head for taxi rank, which is a bit I'm most concerned about with the potential to get fleeced. On the contrary, there's a little booth, you say where you're going i.e. show mobile phone, and they give you a cab no. Our cab 1171 turns up - they're official yellow cabs so not random dickheads.

Our guy says little and hauls the cases into the boot. We set off, man driving like a maniac at times, cutting through the traffic like he's Max Verstappen with a turd on the way. All the time he says nothing. Zip. Nada. A little TV in the cab plays some weird rock video sung in English with a fair bit of cussing. It's called Royal Republic or something. We laugh it off as we hit light speed. In my head I'm trying to convert 10,500 HUF I into GBP to work out how much tip to give. I settle on giving him 12,000 (£28). We've driven for about 30 mins, seems right. He suddenly starts talking and gets the cases out the boot. And wishes us well.

1900: Hotel is lovely and clean, rooms are big. We're next to eachother on 3rd floor. We unpack, freshen up and head out for dinner. Liz wants us to select a place first so we're not drifting around rudderless. We select "Cool Burger" which is a 15 min walk. We get there, Lisa doesn't like it. We head off, drifting, rudderless. Lisa is now starting to freak, at one point saying all the eateries are like those you find in South Ruislip except SR is better. Then we come across a square, and see a sign that says "Craft Beer" with some outside dining. We check menu, it's good. We order burgers, Els has Nachos and life is sweet once more. Whilst out and about we see loads of Harley Davidsons and biker gangs. Some American cars. A couple of stag/hen parties.