You see, it wasn't my plan to write a blog so close to my recent one about South Korea, but sometimes I feel the need to write down some thoughts and wonderments as they happen.

I am flying home this morning. At least, that was the plan when a big storm presented itself in Holland. The whole country on its ‘rear side’ (sorry, that is a bad Dutch to English translation like there are so many of). It basically means the country is taking a logistical hit. Public transportation is out. Trains don't ride and people in all regions are urged not to go on the road, any road. The Dutch can be a bit cynical when code red is announced by the Dutch national weather service KNMI. More often than not, the situation is far less grave. As a result, discontent all around. But  this time the storm was severe and the code red was legit.

Unlucky that I was flying home this exact morning for my mom's birthday bash weekend. My flight got cancelled, an hour before departure. Right after I got through security (always an enjoyable activity) and I was ordering myself a tasty mango fruit smoothie. It was the first time my flight got cancelled. In all those years not once did that happen. 

Passenger universe

When I see my flight on the board cancelled, it also says to contact staff to get more information. Any person in a neon yellow jacket seems valid enough to approach. Especially when the back of the jacket reads 'airport staff'. For a few minutes, the centre of the universe is about my flight and I expect everybody to know about the cancellation and how to further assist. Call it a bad initial reality sense of plane passengers in such a situation. As soon as I have my question out, it is clear that this person has no clue what I was saying, let alone how to help me. But no time to waste, so onto the next staff member.

Within minutes I know where to go. I make my way to the exit and I hurry myself to the service desk area where I’m told by a few friendly ladies in uniform I will get further instructions later... Unfortunately, that is where it all service communication stops. I am one of the first queueing up and from where I am, the start of a fascinating scene.

Epic centre

More people are coming down from the departure area, as people there are reading the cancellation on the board one by one. The queue before the service desk is getting longer. More belt posts are added to channel the growing queue. People from different nationalities, with different backgrounds, having one thing in common: they all have to go to Amsterdam and they all see their travel plans go up in smoke. Everybody is asking the same questions as they join the queue. The question marks are written all over their faces. Some people ask others what to do, some ask staff. Airport staff is walking around with walkie-talkies, trying to console a few new people in the queue, but mostly they are standing at the service desk up front looking busy. As far as I can tell, that is where it all happens. The epic centre if you will.

Sound of silence

It goes without saying that I wasn't the only one affected by the flight cancellation. My situation was simple compared to my fellow travellers. I only had to get to Holland. Other passengers had more exotic destinations to go to with Amsterdam as a layover. I myself wasn't impatient, distressed or panicked in any way. Safety above all and a good reason to cancel flights. I just wanted to know what was going on and that was the fascinating thing: you don't hear much standing in the queue. Nothing actually. You can eavesdrop on conversations of other passengers in the queue, some with airport staff, but basically you hear nothing if you don't actively pursuit it.

The queue seems not to move much. Being patient is not my best feature, neither is being told what to do. But there you have it. What else could I do. I call a few people, let them know I will be running late (still hopeful I can get back to my day as soon as) and notice a colleague that was also stranded. At some point, a staff member approaches me with a few questions. She walks away with details about my flight. That’s it. Nothing else was said. Later, when I see that lady is about to leave, maybe her shift was finished, I couldn’t help but call her, even left my precious spot in the queue for it, to ask what was being done with my details. My inquiry was quickly brushed away with a brief answer, leaving me with the same questions as before. I still think that was a bit odd and firmly disagree with the overall lack of communication.

Even when there is no update, it is always good to give an update about not having an update. That would still be an update. Call it professional ethics, but as a Comms professional by trade I realised yet again the importance of sharing information. And not just importance, also the simple effort to take a minute to inform the people. Not just me, but all passengers. People will understand the queue and the waiting around much better when they understand what they are waiting for and know what's going on.

It turns out I am the forgiving type. Within 90 minutes I was in front of the queue, standing at the ‘epic’ desk. My flight was officially rebooked. I was able to fly home the same day. There were no more direct flights to Amsterdam that day and I had to fly via London. Fine by me. I was handed two new boarding passes for both flights and I was kindly escorted to another check-in desk to prepare myself for the next flight.

All in all, being stranded at the Edinburgh airport was a relative wait. With a little déja vu at the security gate when I was asked - yet again - to unbuckle the belt, take off the boots and separate the small liquids in a plastic bag 😊.