It’s a pleasant, although a long journey lasting about 4 hours. We see the plane at the side of the road that made an emergency landing onto the N1 the night before, it does look strange and so out of place. A petrol detour take us to a rough looking industrial area and not for the first time we are the centre of attention. The lady petrol attendant, who doesn’t speak any English, gives me a big bear hug and a broad smile as I’m sporting a Bafana Bafana t-shirt which she approves of. Back on the road again and the mileage keeps clocking up, over 4,500 kms and still going. We find a hotel near the airport which those of our party who can’t rearrange flights will stay at. I take the batmobile back to the hire place and grab a lift to the airport. The place is heaving! The queues for the service desks are massive as everybody is doing the same thing, fortunately Skip, Mark and me are already sorted so we just have to hang around for about 6 or 7 hours for our flight. The journalists are a bit thick on the ground too and we do several interviews for Radio 5 Live, The Guardian etc. The England team are also leaving at this time but they are selected for special treatment and don’t come anywhere near us, typical.
The time from check in to departure is filled by shopping for presents. I’m still looking for something I saw at the hotel at Storms River but eventually concede defeat and choose some other bits and pieces. The items we all like are far too big and heavy to purchase here, it’s a pity, we also decide against food stuffs like Animal Droppings and Ostrich Paté, and I kid you not! The flights called and we make our way to the gate. We’re desperately sad to be going and yet looking forward to getting home to see friends and family and leave the embarrassment behind us.
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