On Tuesday afternoon, I'm due to fly out to Dublin. And on Wednesday morning, I'm due to fly from Dublin to New York, switch planes, and fly on to San Diego.
Which is obviously why I have come down with a nasty summer cold (streaming nose, sore throat, and sinus headache). And why a €5 network card has decided to enliven my life by inflicting rolling delays on all flights in and out of Dublin.
I ought to be able to throw off a cold in 72 hours, and I've got more than 12 hours between my flight into Dublin and my onward connection (I'm booked into a hotel overnight), but I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Let's see: there's going to be a terror scare and they'll ban iPods or books or something equally implausible. Or I will just miss my connection at JFK, and be condemned to wander the decrepit airside terminal for an extra six hours before making a standby slot. Or my hotel room in San Diego will turn out to be on the party floor, next door to an amphetamine-crazed drummer ...
I think I'm going back to bed. Again. Meanwhile, what are your favourite travel horror stories?