Most holidays have the odd hiccup. A delayed flight, a missed transfer or a hotel mix-up. Ours had all three… and much more. Looking back now I can laugh about it, but at the time it was one of the most stressful travel experiences I’ve ever had.
This story takes us back to 2019.
Martin and I had separated as a couple but had remained good friends. Every year he liked to go away for his birthday on 2nd November, but that year he’d left it a little too late to book through his usual holiday club. They had no availability, so his booking was passed to one of their affiliates.
Everything appeared to be in order. The paperwork had arrived, our flights were confirmed, and because I live only a few miles from Gatwick Airport, Martin stayed at my house the night before so we could travel to the airport together.
Little did we know our holiday was already beginning to unravel.
The First Problem
We joined the queue to collect our boarding passes from the self-service machines. Martin entered the booking reference.
Error.
He tried again.
Error.
Assuming he had simply entered something incorrectly, we headed to the nearest desk. Unfortunately, the member of staff wasn’t able to help and simply shrugged his shoulders.
After being sent from desk to desk we eventually found ourselves speaking to a wonderful member of staff at the British Airways desk. Within a few minutes she discovered the problem.
Our booking existed…
…but someone had cancelled our outgoing flight just thirty minutes after the reservation had been made.
The connecting flight was still active, but without the first flight we obviously couldn’t reach it.
Martin spent what felt like forever on the phone to the booking agent while the airport staff did everything they could to help. Eventually both flights had to be cancelled and rebooked.
The same journey.
The same destination.
Different seats.
At least we were finally on our way.
Nice… But Not For Long
We eventually landed in Nice ready for our connection to Tunisia.
Unfortunately, by the time we reached the departure gate it had already closed.
The booking agent hadn’t allowed enough time between flights for us to get from Arrivals to Departures.
The frustrating part?
We could actually see the aircraft through the window, and passengers were still boarding.
Rules are rules, however, and there was nothing anyone at the gate could do.
Another phone call.
Another wait.
Another solution.
The booking agent arranged a hotel opposite the airport at no extra cost because the next available flight wasn’t until the following evening.
Rather than sitting in the hotel all day feeling sorry for ourselves, we decided to make the most of the unexpected stopover. We wandered around Nice, visited the zoo and enjoyed a lovely lunch together before returning to the airport for our evening flight.
At last, we were heading to Tunisia.
Or so we thought.
The Hotel Surprise
Because we had arrived a day later than planned, the taxi transfer had long since disappeared. Another phone call to the booking agent eventually solved that problem and, late in the evening, we finally arrived at our hotel.
We were tired.
Hungry.
Ready for a meal and a good night’s sleep.
Instead we heard the words nobody wants to hear after a long day of travelling.
“I’m sorry, sir… I don’t have a booking for you.”
Martin handed over all of the paperwork showing the suite he had reserved — a two-bedroom ground-floor suite beside the swimming pool.
Nothing.
There was no booking.
The concierge couldn’t have been more helpful. While Martin tried to sort everything out, he suggested we have some dinner before the restaurant closed. Afterwards he very kindly arranged a complimentary room for us for the night.
It wasn’t the room we’d booked, but at least we had somewhere to sleep.
One More Blow
The following morning, instead of exploring Tunisia, we spent hours in the hotel office trying to resolve the booking.
The outcome was heartbreaking.
Martin had to pay for the hotel all over again.
Before we left home he had already spent several thousand pounds on what was supposed to be an all-inclusive holiday, including food, drinks and excursions.
After paying for the accommodation again, there simply wasn’t enough money left for the all-inclusive package.
That meant my spending money became our food and drink budget for the rest of the holiday.
Our planned excursions disappeared.
Entertainment disappeared.
Instead, we spent the week making the best of the situation by exploring the local area, walking along the beach and enjoying each other’s company.
Sometimes that’s all you can do.
Home… Eventually
By the end of the week we were looking forward to getting home.
Thankfully, the British Airways representative at Gatwick had confirmed our return flights before we’d left the UK, so surely this journey would be straightforward.
Not quite.
Our flight was delayed by around two hours.
When we eventually landed in Marseille, our connecting flight had already departed.
Another phone call.
Another hotel opposite an airport.
Another rearranged flight.
I even had to phone work to explain that I wouldn’t be back when expected.
Looking Back
People often ask me what my worst holiday has been.
Without hesitation, it’s this one.
Yet when I think about it now, something else stands out.
Despite everything that happened, Martin remained remarkably calm. Frustrated? Absolutely. Angry? Understandably. But he dealt with each problem one step at a time, and somehow we managed to get through it together.
Eventually we made it home.
Exhausted.
Relieved.
And convinced that we needed another holiday just to recover from the first one!
Travel doesn’t always go according to plan, but every journey teaches us something. This one taught me the value of patience, resilience and making the best of difficult situations.
Thankfully, most holidays create wonderful memories.
This one certainly created unforgettable ones.