I picked up a timetable at the train station when we got back from London and realized I’d left one important step out of my trip planning. I’d assumed that Kaitlyn and I would be able to take a train from Peterborough to Stanstead Airport with no problem. It never even crossed my mind to check the train schedule in advance.
The first train out in the morning leaves at 7:10. It is not an express. There is no express. It stops more often than the metro. It leaves at 7:10 and gets to the airport at 8:43.
That’s probably enough time. Maybe.
But I have to drag two suitcases, a backpack, Kaitlyn’s backpack and Kaitlyn from the train to the plane. Figure 15 minutes to get from the platform to the check in area. That makes it 9am. The wait there could be any length of time. Bill has texted me from that very spot with horror stories of waits longer than two hours. Assume 30 minutes. That gets us to 9:30. Security is tight in London, so figure another 30 minutes. That makes it 10am. Ten minutes to run to the gate and board a plane without assigned seats.
I can’t decide if I should cry or scream. Or both.
Bill insists I call the front desk and ask for help. It took me a few minutes to swallow my pride and make the call. If I need a car or taxi, what will that cost? The woman at the front desk was very nice, but she didn’t know. She had to find out and call me back. The wait for her call nearly drove me crazy. Finally she had the information: 60 pounds. Fine. Book it.
I should have checked the train schedule sooner. And I shouldn’t have bothered to buy the rail pass. I bought an 8 day pass that I used three days. An expensive lesson. Oh, well, it’s not like I thought I lost our passports or something.