It all started when I tried to leave Sao Paulo back on Wednesday (not the most recent one, the one before). My flight to London (via Casablanca) was delayed by 4 hours. Which would have been nice (hey, 4 extra hours in Brazil, before I'd left to the airport!) but it was a rainy and cold four hours (preparing me for UK weather).
I also noted that this would result in me missing my connecting flight to Gatwick.
When I arrived at Sao Paulo airport, I couldn't find a check-in desk (in spite of arriving 2 hours before my flight), then subsequently after running round the airport with luggage for a while, managed to find someone from my airline (Royal Air Maroc) who proceeded to tick me off for not having been there THREE hours before my flight. I pointed out that the SMS they'd sent me said that the check-in desk would still be open until ONE hour before my flight. So where was it? (And where was everyone else who was supposed to check in on that flight? It was quite strange.)
They managed to check me in and I got on board, and there was a crazy man on board who seemed quite aggressive and I was surprised they let him stay on board, but it made me quite nervous. I was also just nervous about flying that path (I know it's silly as loads of planes fly that route all the time, but just still distressed by all those poor people whose plane fell out of the air between Brazil and France years back).
I was happy to have landed safely in Casablanca, but due to my missed connection, the next available flight was only 20 hours later. And as I was travelling on a Malaysian passport, I was unable to leave the airport without a visa! So that was a long stay and I felt like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.
I was also concerned about any further delays, as I was rushing back for a wedding on the Saturday, and the bride and groom were already coming out of their way to Gatwick to pick me up and whisk me off to the wedding, which was in Bristol, and I was already delaying their plans.
Fortunately, no further delays in reaching Gatwick (after an uncomfortable night at Casablanca airport), but they did manage to lose my check in luggage.
So nothing to wear to the wedding.
I was saved again by the generosity of those around me, and I ended up seemingly confused about who was really getting married, as I did end up wearing something old, something new, something borrowed, and yes, something blue.
Then at wedding dinner, I ordered pork belly with crackling and managed to chip a front tooth (incisor) on the crackling, resulting in an expensive trip to the dentist.
Too much drink, a dodgy club, a hangover, and the next day, my friend, who I was sharing a room with, went back to Birmingham earlier than I felt fit to get out of bed. She took all her belongings with her, including the handbag she'd lent me. Unfortunately she did not check its contents before reclaiming it, and after she'd hit the motorway, we realised she'd taken my purse with her, including all my cards and cash (except for the £5 I'd squirrelled away somewhere else). Again, the generosity of friends saved me.
Upon arriving back in Watford (where bride and groom live and are putting me up... I think they've adopted me), my luggage was there (yay!) and the following day, my purse arrived, and I was able to go to the dentist, so all seemed right again for me to get on with my life. Except the next day I caught the flu.
Still recovering now (a week after returning to the UK), but hopefully no further mishaps!