Pack bag. Weigh bag. Overweight. Unpack bag. Repack into lighter bag (by one kilo). Still overweight. Stuff it. Unpack bag, pack back into original bag.
Get to airport. Stand in long check-in queue. Get to front of queue. Wrong queue. Go to back of another (longer) queue. Get to front of next check-in queue. Weigh bags. Overweight. Feign indignant surprise. Informed that paying excess is not an option - must redistribute weight into hand luggage. Baggage is already in clingwrap (extra security to ward off nasty prying baggage-handling hands). Inform fat-arse check-in lady that I'm not unwrapping and unpacking, I'll pay excess. Fat-arse check-in lady says excess not an option. Burst into tears. Fat-arse check-in lady says maybe paying excess is an option.
In queue to pay excess luggage, watch in disbelief as someone in same check-in queue is let through with more luggage (different check-in lady). Forget tears, throw monstrous tantrum of Katrina proportions. Now everyone in departure knows of my presense. Excess payment waivered. Smile sweetly and check in.
Board. Sit in second last row from back. Cramped. Aircon broken. Flight delayed. Announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a faulty brake so we've decided not to take off." That must be the safety and security policy kicking in. One hour later. Bored. Hot. No air. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that there was nothing wrong with the brake, it was actually just a faulty signalling light." Take off.
Turbulence. Stomach dropping. "Bumpy weather conditions over Africa..." Really? Hadn't noticed. Descend, hit tarmac, skid, slide, stop. Late. One hour to get through flight connections in Heathrow, change from Terminal 1 to T4 and board. Run.
Finally... The Netherlands. Boyfriend. eShibobo!