Apologies in advance, I wrote this blog post ages ago and only just got around to posting it. So, a friend of a friend is in the lucky position of being Monegasque. She drives a Rav4. That’s not important. Anyway, knowing that I wanted to organise a tour to the Monaco GP, her and her husband invited me and my better half to spend the weekend. She could show us around the best places to stay, eat, and drink. As summer was fading, we both jumped at the chance. The flights were booked and we counted the days.
It was a bit windy that day, and as we took off, I just assumed the wind would stop once we got above the cloud line. It didn’t. Nervous flyers look away now! it stayed windy ALL the way to Nice airport. Two hours, in the back of the plane, and not once were the seatbelt signs switched off. But as Nice airport drew closer, the hundred-something passengers began to draw a collective sigh of relief. And then we had an aborted landing. And another. I could see the runway, just land the plane, man! And then the Captain came on “Ladies and Gentlemen, just so you know, a third aborted landing means we have to divert to Marseille”. Normally you can throw money at a situation like that, and cab-it from Marseille to Monaco. But the weekend flight to Monaco in late October has a longer line for Business Class than Economy, this was not a battle I could win. So, we put our heads between our legs and prayed for a nice landing in Nice. Bang! To rapturous applause, we were down safely.
We were met at the airport by the Franco-Russian alliance. “How was the flight”. I didn’t answer, but for those who want to know, it was like being driven around the Nordschliefe by someone who has more bravery than ability. Things got better when we had a beer on the terrace of the Buddha Bar just off Casino Square. Never has a beer been more deserved than it was that night!