For me to be travelling anywhere first class can only mean one of two things, either a) I've won something or b) someone, somewhere has royally fucked up. And I don't win things.
After a glorious two week sojurn with.....Mark, my Antiguan experience drew to a close. For five days I sat riveted, watching a classic game of Test cricket with my family. But now was time to say adios before moving onto Barbados.
It's a curious thing, cricket. I've travelled many a mile to watch a sport that is often derided for its incomprehensible rules, slow play and habit of going nowhere for five days before peetering out in a draw. This was the first experience of watching a match that didn't result in a winner either way and still it's comfortably the best cricket game I've ever seen. Which may or may not say more about the other matches I've sat through than it does about this one.
For four days it looked as though England were going to level the series after good batting from Andrew Strauss and Paul Collingwood and bowling from Graeme Swann. Midway through the fourth day and the West Indies had to bat through four and a half sessions to save the match. With Ramneresh Sarwan and Chivnerine Chanderpaul at the crease until gone lunch on the fifth day it was still in the balance as the new ball was taken. Step forward Stuart Broad who dismissed both and it was game on. With the shadows starting to lengthen, the clock ticking down, England kept chipping away with wickets. But would it be enough?
Gradually the ground started to fill with Windies fans who'd heard their boys were putting up a hell of a fight. Entry was free after tea and with a large portion of the English support already in Barbados it was a keenly fought battle on the terraces for vocal support.
The timing for the end of play was anyone's guess but with an expected hour left of play England took the 8th West Indian wicket. Like it had been for much of the day every ball was unmissable.
Half an hour to go and Graeme Swann picked up the 9th wicket, Sulieman Benn LBW and by his disappointed demeanour it looked as though he was going to refuse to walk away from the crease. All this meant the last man, Fidel Edwards was now in, and he made sure he took his sweet time walking to the crease.
First Steve Harmison tried to break him, then Freddie Flintoff with Graeme Swann was chipping away at the other end ten players were huddled round the bat, the Windies batsmen trying to waste as much time as possible, the English booed, the Windies fans cheered, an old guy blew on his trumpet, a younger guy on his guitar, the home support were pleading with the umpires to offer the batsmen the light, it was electric stuff, exactly the reason a cricket lover comes to the Caribbean. Then, with 4 overs remaining, the umpires met in the middle, decided the light was too bad to continue and off they came to a chorus of cheers, clapping and back slapping from the home fans.
After the match we all walked down to the harbour for a couple of end of holiday beers and a dinner so beautiful Dave sought out the chef to pass on his praise. Food aside we all agreed we'd seen something special. It all seemed a far cry from a week previous when the cricket was almost certainly off and the holiday in disarray.
Looking back on a historic day for Test cricket at 'The Rec' we also celebrated the best line of the
week. The winner, or culprit, was my dad.
His foot was obviously still troubling him (once back in London he was diagnosed with either a torn or ruptured achilles. Ouch! He's now in plaster and won't be playing beach cricket before 2010 - he's also ruled out of this years IPL) and while taking a photo with me and Dave something caught his attention.
The bloke sitting in front of dad for the days play hadn't got off his seat much. This being the first time dad had made it to the front of the stand it was the first time he could see the front of the bloke whose head he'd been staring at the back of for five hours.
The bloke had what looked like a bandage around his knee. And this obviously struck a chord with dad who animatedly opened a conversation.
Dad: Hey mate. What have you done to your knee?
Dave: (begins jabbing him violently in the side)
Bloke: Huh?
Dad: Your knee. What have you done to it?
Bloke: (Unhinging the strapping, he flicked a couple of clasps to reveal nothing underneath the knee area, before beginning to wave his false leg above his head) Oh, I lost my leg years ago
Dad: (Trying to seamlessly switch from upbeat, excited mode to a more understanding and understated tone but completely failing) Oh, okay then.
Brilliant. It was such a sweet passage of dialogue and managed to usurp what up until that point had been the clear winner in the best moment of the week stakes. The day previously we'd had a couple of beers at the bar next to the cricket ground. Dave and Stuart then went off to get a cab and Mark and I walked alongside dad at his regulation one mile an hour pace. A moment later Dave and Stuart returned with what looked like a drunken bloke. My immediate thought was that they'd bumped into a guy they'd made friends with earlier but it was in fact our cabby. Dave told us he'd agreed a price of $30 and set off towards the cab with Stuart. But dad and I noticed the cabby was carrying a cup of what looked like coke.
Me: Excuse me, mate. What's in the glass?
Cabby: This glass?
Me: Yep
Cabby: Almost entirely coke!
Me: Hmmmm. And?
Cabby: A little bit of lime!
Me: Annndd?
Cabby: (holding two fingers up and almost bringing them together in a squeezing motion) And just the tiniest bit of gin.
Me & dad: Ha ha!!!! Okay, thanks anyway mate.
We were still laughing as he ran after us protesting he was more than capable to driving us home.
All of which is how I will remember Antigua. It's a beautiful, friendly country where anything can happen. I can't quite put my finger on why the people here are so welcoming, generous with their time and opinions, relaxed, polite and caring. Watching them interact with each other at the cricket it is almost as they all know each other. The nutters, the kids, the old men, the loud and boisterous mothers, the good looking young parents with their cute kids. Almost all interact in a manner that is so overtly warm despite the loudness and seemingly aggressive tones they can undertake between themselves at any moment.
Another aspect of life I've enjoyed dipping my toes into has been the local bus services which are 90% cheaper than cabs and offer a snapshot of Antiguan life that you wouldn't otherwise get. First off the buses aren't like the ones we get back home they are just multi seater vans. Every inch of space used up for passengers. And the kids are squeezed in wherever they can. It's not unsual to cram in 23 people into a vehicle designed for half that. Signs inside the buses alert customers not to eat, drink or use inappropriate language. Not that it could be heard over the heavy reggae tunes or manic radio DJ's.
The drivers use their horns constantly, not just to say hello to any other vehicle that drives by but to alert anyone on the street that they are passing and have space if they need a ride. Whenever the doors are flung open the new passengers steps inside and greets everyone with a 'Good Mornin' which is murmered back in return. And whenever someone gets to where they need to get off a shout goes out 'Bus Stop!' Although, again, it's sometimes difficult to make yourself heard over the din on the radio.
On our first trip into town it was during rush hour and the school run. One small boy of 5 or 6 boarded alone and he sat himself next to Mark. He was wearing a freshly ironed white school shirt, cream trousers, a tie and had his backpack on both shoulders. He couldn't take his big brown eyes off of Mark, who was sitting to his right staring out the window. You could see the look of confusion in his face as he kept stealing a look at this weird chap wearing a T-Shirt with Salford on the front. He was fascinated and I could see exactly what he was thinking as the bus made its way to the Christian school that he belonged. 'I know this bloke, he's definitely from Take That, but is it Howard or Jason?'
Another element of life that is wholly refreshing became apparent almost immediately that we set foot on the Island. The general election is set for March 12th and the election process was in full swing by the time we arrived. Drumming up support for either the incumbent UPP party or chief opposition the APL is a vibrant and noisy event. From 7am through to nightfall cars with stickers, flags and posters drive around the country furthering the parties aims via two or three huge loudspeakers affixed to the top of their vehicles. Blaring out various messages hidden within booming reggae and dancehall music. Picture the cop car in Blues Brothers when they go around town advertising their upcoming concert and you'll get the picture.
But what makes things so impressive and enjoyable is that it seems unlike in England where apathy rules OK; here you can find animated and heated discussions taking place at the bar, in the queues, between residents of all ages and every class. People here care and it's so refreshing to see it in action. Whether on the beachfront or walking through St Johns. You can ask people their opinion and you will get a concise answer to any question.
And while on the topic of St Johns it would be remiss of me to fail to talk about a town small in size but rich and full of life, soul and noise. Walking through the capital on a busy afternoon is a welcome assault on the senses. Heavy traffic snakes through the town, people skipping from sidewalk to road and back again, stalls set up selling vegetables, beach goods, clothing and soft drinks. Shopfronts line the streets, it's impossible to pass by one shop without hearing and seeing the large old school ghetto blasters out front, pumping out tunes, the original sound clash. Although slightly daunting to walk around at night while laden down with laptop, recording equipment and mobile phone it's a delight to experience during the day.
All of which makes the manner in which I left the country such a disappointing let down. Although I'll not let it darken my view of a country that I already look forward to returning to. And due to the change in itinerary forced upon me will see me spend the night of the 10th there before heading back to England the following day.
And it was that spectre of the missed flight to Kingston that once again reared its head over proceedings. With Dave & dad due to fly back to the UK half an hour before Mark and I flew onto Barbados we set off for the airport together. Stuart was flying back the following day but we all jumped in a cab around midday. We wanted to take advantage of walking around Sir Allen Stanford's private cricket ground and sampling a few beers at his cricket themed 'Sticky Wicket' restaurant next to Antigua's airport before it gets seized by the US government and possibly closed down.
We arrived at half past twelve to find the Caribbean Airlines desk shut. We were told it opened at 2pm. So after dad and Dave had checked in we made our way to the restaurant for a couple of cheeky beers. We all agreed it was probably the best place in the world to relax prior to catching a flight.
We'd brought along the most expensive beach cricket set in the world with us and were planning to take it on to Barbados. But first we fancied a game on the outfield so asked the waitress whether this would be possible. It wasn't. But we didn't let it stop us having a walk round the outfield and having a small game of catch before a security guard came and told us off.
By this time the clock had hit 2pm so Mark and I went to check in. Nobody was to be seen for a good twenty minutes but eventually three or four bored looking attendants turned up and after our bags were thoroughly searched in front of us waved us to the desk. And this is where it all started to go wrong.
For a full break down of what happened feel free to read the letter of complaint I've added at the bottom of this 'blog. But the upshot was problem time. Big problem time. We were told that we needed to pay $208 transfer fees that were outstanding. because as we'd missed our Kingston flights we'd had to re-book our itinerary. Although surprised that this was to be done at the airport we agreed to this. Although after 25 minutes we were still waiting for our tickets and I was stressing that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to dad and Dave. So we left the woman to it. Our bags behind the desk, our passports and my credit card in her possession. We agreed to be back in an hour.
We went and saw Dave and dad back at Sticky Wicket where they were chowing down on some huge tasty burgers. I let off a mini-rant and than calmed down a bit. We'd been assured that we would be getting on our flight so I figured the worst was over. At half past three Dave and dad left us to go through departures. Mark ordered a plate of garlic bread and a double chocolate cake and I a burger.
At 4pm, with our flight at 6pm, we walked the 5 mins back to the airport to be confronted with a huge snaking queue and a visibly annoyed looking Dave and dad stood someway from the front. We dashed back to the Caribbean Airlines desk to be told that everything was far from settled. That if we wanted to board our flights we would have to re-book tickets for this flight as well as the onwards flights to Trinidad and back to Antigua. And that would cost $1,311. Or just under £1,000.
"You have got to be fucking joking me". Was pretty much the gist of what was said when we were then told that while we would possibly get a refund for the original cost of our itinerary ($550) we wouldn't get a refund for the £1,000 we were now being strong armed into taking. Visions of missing my sisters wedding flashed past my eyes. I was trapped in a corner and the only way out was to put it on my visa card.
With the plane already boarding and a huge queue to navigate we somehow made it through to the most unsatisfactory first class flight in existence. For 50 minutes I sat dumbstruck at what had just happened. Dumb struck and very, very stressed. It was a terrible way to end what had been an amazing part of my holiday.
I'm starting to learn, very painfully and slowly, that when in the Caribbean, expect the worst to happen and you won't get disappointed and you won't get stressed. With flights to Trinidad to come, an argument with Caribbean Airlines about my refund, then flights back to Antigua via Barbados, I await with calm serenity the misplacement of my baggage, and the loss off my passport. It's the only thing bad left that can happen. I hope.
************The following is the letter I've sent to Caribbean Airlines*************
***** Road,
Battersea
London
*****
After a glorious two week sojurn with.....Mark, my Antiguan experience drew to a close. For five days I sat riveted, watching a classic game of Test cricket with my family. But now was time to say adios before moving onto Barbados.
It's a curious thing, cricket. I've travelled many a mile to watch a sport that is often derided for its incomprehensible rules, slow play and habit of going nowhere for five days before peetering out in a draw. This was the first experience of watching a match that didn't result in a winner either way and still it's comfortably the best cricket game I've ever seen. Which may or may not say more about the other matches I've sat through than it does about this one.
For four days it looked as though England were going to level the series after good batting from Andrew Strauss and Paul Collingwood and bowling from Graeme Swann. Midway through the fourth day and the West Indies had to bat through four and a half sessions to save the match. With Ramneresh Sarwan and Chivnerine Chanderpaul at the crease until gone lunch on the fifth day it was still in the balance as the new ball was taken. Step forward Stuart Broad who dismissed both and it was game on. With the shadows starting to lengthen, the clock ticking down, England kept chipping away with wickets. But would it be enough?
Gradually the ground started to fill with Windies fans who'd heard their boys were putting up a hell of a fight. Entry was free after tea and with a large portion of the English support already in Barbados it was a keenly fought battle on the terraces for vocal support.
The timing for the end of play was anyone's guess but with an expected hour left of play England took the 8th West Indian wicket. Like it had been for much of the day every ball was unmissable.
Half an hour to go and Graeme Swann picked up the 9th wicket, Sulieman Benn LBW and by his disappointed demeanour it looked as though he was going to refuse to walk away from the crease. All this meant the last man, Fidel Edwards was now in, and he made sure he took his sweet time walking to the crease.
First Steve Harmison tried to break him, then Freddie Flintoff with Graeme Swann was chipping away at the other end ten players were huddled round the bat, the Windies batsmen trying to waste as much time as possible, the English booed, the Windies fans cheered, an old guy blew on his trumpet, a younger guy on his guitar, the home support were pleading with the umpires to offer the batsmen the light, it was electric stuff, exactly the reason a cricket lover comes to the Caribbean. Then, with 4 overs remaining, the umpires met in the middle, decided the light was too bad to continue and off they came to a chorus of cheers, clapping and back slapping from the home fans.
After the match we all walked down to the harbour for a couple of end of holiday beers and a dinner so beautiful Dave sought out the chef to pass on his praise. Food aside we all agreed we'd seen something special. It all seemed a far cry from a week previous when the cricket was almost certainly off and the holiday in disarray.
Looking back on a historic day for Test cricket at 'The Rec' we also celebrated the best line of the
week. The winner, or culprit, was my dad.
His foot was obviously still troubling him (once back in London he was diagnosed with either a torn or ruptured achilles. Ouch! He's now in plaster and won't be playing beach cricket before 2010 - he's also ruled out of this years IPL) and while taking a photo with me and Dave something caught his attention.
The bloke sitting in front of dad for the days play hadn't got off his seat much. This being the first time dad had made it to the front of the stand it was the first time he could see the front of the bloke whose head he'd been staring at the back of for five hours.
The bloke had what looked like a bandage around his knee. And this obviously struck a chord with dad who animatedly opened a conversation.
Dad: Hey mate. What have you done to your knee?
Dave: (begins jabbing him violently in the side)
Bloke: Huh?
Dad: Your knee. What have you done to it?
Bloke: (Unhinging the strapping, he flicked a couple of clasps to reveal nothing underneath the knee area, before beginning to wave his false leg above his head) Oh, I lost my leg years ago
Dad: (Trying to seamlessly switch from upbeat, excited mode to a more understanding and understated tone but completely failing) Oh, okay then.
Brilliant. It was such a sweet passage of dialogue and managed to usurp what up until that point had been the clear winner in the best moment of the week stakes. The day previously we'd had a couple of beers at the bar next to the cricket ground. Dave and Stuart then went off to get a cab and Mark and I walked alongside dad at his regulation one mile an hour pace. A moment later Dave and Stuart returned with what looked like a drunken bloke. My immediate thought was that they'd bumped into a guy they'd made friends with earlier but it was in fact our cabby. Dave told us he'd agreed a price of $30 and set off towards the cab with Stuart. But dad and I noticed the cabby was carrying a cup of what looked like coke.
Me: Excuse me, mate. What's in the glass?
Cabby: This glass?
Me: Yep
Cabby: Almost entirely coke!
Me: Hmmmm. And?
Cabby: A little bit of lime!
Me: Annndd?
Cabby: (holding two fingers up and almost bringing them together in a squeezing motion) And just the tiniest bit of gin.
Me & dad: Ha ha!!!! Okay, thanks anyway mate.
We were still laughing as he ran after us protesting he was more than capable to driving us home.
All of which is how I will remember Antigua. It's a beautiful, friendly country where anything can happen. I can't quite put my finger on why the people here are so welcoming, generous with their time and opinions, relaxed, polite and caring. Watching them interact with each other at the cricket it is almost as they all know each other. The nutters, the kids, the old men, the loud and boisterous mothers, the good looking young parents with their cute kids. Almost all interact in a manner that is so overtly warm despite the loudness and seemingly aggressive tones they can undertake between themselves at any moment.
Another aspect of life I've enjoyed dipping my toes into has been the local bus services which are 90% cheaper than cabs and offer a snapshot of Antiguan life that you wouldn't otherwise get. First off the buses aren't like the ones we get back home they are just multi seater vans. Every inch of space used up for passengers. And the kids are squeezed in wherever they can. It's not unsual to cram in 23 people into a vehicle designed for half that. Signs inside the buses alert customers not to eat, drink or use inappropriate language. Not that it could be heard over the heavy reggae tunes or manic radio DJ's.
The drivers use their horns constantly, not just to say hello to any other vehicle that drives by but to alert anyone on the street that they are passing and have space if they need a ride. Whenever the doors are flung open the new passengers steps inside and greets everyone with a 'Good Mornin' which is murmered back in return. And whenever someone gets to where they need to get off a shout goes out 'Bus Stop!' Although, again, it's sometimes difficult to make yourself heard over the din on the radio.
On our first trip into town it was during rush hour and the school run. One small boy of 5 or 6 boarded alone and he sat himself next to Mark. He was wearing a freshly ironed white school shirt, cream trousers, a tie and had his backpack on both shoulders. He couldn't take his big brown eyes off of Mark, who was sitting to his right staring out the window. You could see the look of confusion in his face as he kept stealing a look at this weird chap wearing a T-Shirt with Salford on the front. He was fascinated and I could see exactly what he was thinking as the bus made its way to the Christian school that he belonged. 'I know this bloke, he's definitely from Take That, but is it Howard or Jason?'
Another element of life that is wholly refreshing became apparent almost immediately that we set foot on the Island. The general election is set for March 12th and the election process was in full swing by the time we arrived. Drumming up support for either the incumbent UPP party or chief opposition the APL is a vibrant and noisy event. From 7am through to nightfall cars with stickers, flags and posters drive around the country furthering the parties aims via two or three huge loudspeakers affixed to the top of their vehicles. Blaring out various messages hidden within booming reggae and dancehall music. Picture the cop car in Blues Brothers when they go around town advertising their upcoming concert and you'll get the picture.
But what makes things so impressive and enjoyable is that it seems unlike in England where apathy rules OK; here you can find animated and heated discussions taking place at the bar, in the queues, between residents of all ages and every class. People here care and it's so refreshing to see it in action. Whether on the beachfront or walking through St Johns. You can ask people their opinion and you will get a concise answer to any question.
And while on the topic of St Johns it would be remiss of me to fail to talk about a town small in size but rich and full of life, soul and noise. Walking through the capital on a busy afternoon is a welcome assault on the senses. Heavy traffic snakes through the town, people skipping from sidewalk to road and back again, stalls set up selling vegetables, beach goods, clothing and soft drinks. Shopfronts line the streets, it's impossible to pass by one shop without hearing and seeing the large old school ghetto blasters out front, pumping out tunes, the original sound clash. Although slightly daunting to walk around at night while laden down with laptop, recording equipment and mobile phone it's a delight to experience during the day.
All of which makes the manner in which I left the country such a disappointing let down. Although I'll not let it darken my view of a country that I already look forward to returning to. And due to the change in itinerary forced upon me will see me spend the night of the 10th there before heading back to England the following day.
And it was that spectre of the missed flight to Kingston that once again reared its head over proceedings. With Dave & dad due to fly back to the UK half an hour before Mark and I flew onto Barbados we set off for the airport together. Stuart was flying back the following day but we all jumped in a cab around midday. We wanted to take advantage of walking around Sir Allen Stanford's private cricket ground and sampling a few beers at his cricket themed 'Sticky Wicket' restaurant next to Antigua's airport before it gets seized by the US government and possibly closed down.
We arrived at half past twelve to find the Caribbean Airlines desk shut. We were told it opened at 2pm. So after dad and Dave had checked in we made our way to the restaurant for a couple of cheeky beers. We all agreed it was probably the best place in the world to relax prior to catching a flight.
We'd brought along the most expensive beach cricket set in the world with us and were planning to take it on to Barbados. But first we fancied a game on the outfield so asked the waitress whether this would be possible. It wasn't. But we didn't let it stop us having a walk round the outfield and having a small game of catch before a security guard came and told us off.
By this time the clock had hit 2pm so Mark and I went to check in. Nobody was to be seen for a good twenty minutes but eventually three or four bored looking attendants turned up and after our bags were thoroughly searched in front of us waved us to the desk. And this is where it all started to go wrong.
For a full break down of what happened feel free to read the letter of complaint I've added at the bottom of this 'blog. But the upshot was problem time. Big problem time. We were told that we needed to pay $208 transfer fees that were outstanding. because as we'd missed our Kingston flights we'd had to re-book our itinerary. Although surprised that this was to be done at the airport we agreed to this. Although after 25 minutes we were still waiting for our tickets and I was stressing that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to dad and Dave. So we left the woman to it. Our bags behind the desk, our passports and my credit card in her possession. We agreed to be back in an hour.
We went and saw Dave and dad back at Sticky Wicket where they were chowing down on some huge tasty burgers. I let off a mini-rant and than calmed down a bit. We'd been assured that we would be getting on our flight so I figured the worst was over. At half past three Dave and dad left us to go through departures. Mark ordered a plate of garlic bread and a double chocolate cake and I a burger.
At 4pm, with our flight at 6pm, we walked the 5 mins back to the airport to be confronted with a huge snaking queue and a visibly annoyed looking Dave and dad stood someway from the front. We dashed back to the Caribbean Airlines desk to be told that everything was far from settled. That if we wanted to board our flights we would have to re-book tickets for this flight as well as the onwards flights to Trinidad and back to Antigua. And that would cost $1,311. Or just under £1,000.
"You have got to be fucking joking me". Was pretty much the gist of what was said when we were then told that while we would possibly get a refund for the original cost of our itinerary ($550) we wouldn't get a refund for the £1,000 we were now being strong armed into taking. Visions of missing my sisters wedding flashed past my eyes. I was trapped in a corner and the only way out was to put it on my visa card.
With the plane already boarding and a huge queue to navigate we somehow made it through to the most unsatisfactory first class flight in existence. For 50 minutes I sat dumbstruck at what had just happened. Dumb struck and very, very stressed. It was a terrible way to end what had been an amazing part of my holiday.
I'm starting to learn, very painfully and slowly, that when in the Caribbean, expect the worst to happen and you won't get disappointed and you won't get stressed. With flights to Trinidad to come, an argument with Caribbean Airlines about my refund, then flights back to Antigua via Barbados, I await with calm serenity the misplacement of my baggage, and the loss off my passport. It's the only thing bad left that can happen. I hope.
************The following is the letter I've sent to Caribbean Airlines*************
***** Road,
Battersea
London
*****
23/02/09
To Whom it May Concern,
I am forced to write this letter to you after being delayed, hassled and subsequently forced to pay $1,311 (US) at Antigua airport for plane tickets my traveling companion (Mark Dew) had already bought on the 20th June 2008 for $552.89 (US). After a five hour wait we were told that without payment we could not board our flights. This was despite the woman dealing with the matter (Shavon *******) assuring us hours earlier that we were definitely booked on the flights.
Shavon told us that we could pick up a refund upon reaching Barbados. However on reaching the Caribbean Airline offices we were informed that not only was this not the case, that we would not necessarily recieve repayment for the $1,311 and that this process could take up to two months. All of which is completely unacceptable.
As seasoned cricket travellers and as a broadcast journalist reporting for both radio & TV stations in the UK, myself and my companion have much experience of booking flights months in advance. This is the first time we have been put into a situation whereby we were forced into handing over money in such a manner.
So far we have both spent over five hours at Antigua Airport, half a day dealing with the matter in Barbados, we are severely out of pocket and the stress is not what we expected to experience while in the Caribbean. Added to this is the expense put on my credit card and time that I have been told I have to wait until the matter is resolved.
The problem as far as I can see it is that we arranged an itinerary in June for flights from Jamaica to Antigua, then onto Barbados and Trinidad. Horrendous weather in England meant we couldn't catch our flight to Kingston. So, on the 2nd Feb, we called Caribbean Airline from the UK to re-arrange our itinerary. We were told this would cost $104 (US) per person. This was verbally agreed on the telephone on that date and also on the 20th February when we called en-route to the airport to make sure everything was going to plan. Again, we were told we were definitely on the flight.
Upon reaching Antigua Airport we then encountered the problems detailed above. I am now urging a swift and fair end to a situation which has blighted our trip and will make us reconsider ever flying on Caribbean Airlines ever again. To quote Shavon ******* 'This isn't your fault, it is ours'.
We will be in the Caribbean until the 11th March which will give you more than enough time to repay us the money you owe us. Please feel free to contact me on any of the numbers or email addresses below.
Regards,
Jon Norman
1 comment:
bloody 'ell lad, that's not what you want. Still, perhaps it took your mind off the actual flight! ;o)
BTW - I'd not post your address on t'internet if I were you. You never know who could be reading!
p.s. at time of typing, 447-4. Nice!
Oh Lord... what has become of me?! I even listened to Test Match Special on Five Live whilst I was making the tea last night! Help me jeebus!
Post a Comment