Day Two - Adrenaline and Anguish

3 am,  and I've been sitting in a sterile office around the size of a departure for almost 5 hours. I've asked for news twice, each time was told they were working on it, and daren't ask again. If I seem pushy they could just throw their hands in the air and tell me theirs nothing they can do, or charge me another £1k for a ticket. I hate not knowing, the wait is killing me, and I aren't risk going to the toilet in case at that moment someone comes out and shouts my name. They have my passport, my boarding pass, and my bullocks.

A few hours beforehand, a crying Irish woman comes in with a pushchair and a toddler. She was also supposed to the the same flight as me, but lost track of time and utterly missed the flight. She's a mess. A weeping, wailing, red faced mess, and she's apologising to the toddler who clearly has no idea what's happening. She just wants the juice box the attendant her.

But oh, is it working for her. She has three Etihad attendants around her trying to cheer her up. Even I find myself throwing sympathetic smiles at her. Within twenty minutes they've got her a flight to Melbourne on the next day, more food vouchers than the population of Ireland, and a complementary hotel.

Meanwhile I'm left thinking that they probably only save 1 or 2 seats on flights for emergencies such as this, and there's a good chance she just nabbed it. Suddenly my sympathetic smile isn't so smiley.

So back to 3 am, the Irish woman has long since gone to find her free bed, and it's just me and this other couple, one of which has lost their passport. To my horror I discover they're from New Zealand, and were also on the same connecting flight.
They're also getting way more attention than me, who so far hasn't has a single person come to me that wasn't chased.

Caught between wanting to cry and kick up a fuss, I instead decide to retreat inside my tablet and watch a Top Gear episode I'd downloaded for the flight. Take my mind off things while keeping  beady eye on the New Zealand couple. I sourly note that they're able to call their embassy without an Arab yelling at them to call 050 first.
Top Gear finishes, they're still trying to sort out their passport issue, when finally, at just before 4am I see man walk out with my passport in his hands. He has a boarding card. My heart is in my throat. Please don't be for 4 days time. Please please please.
10 am!!! Jackpot! 6 hours and I would be on the plane to Sydney (Yo was on her way to Melbourne), then a 2 hour stop off before a plane to Christchurch. All free.
I thank him, shake his hand multiple times and even say God bless - which I realise a few minutes afterwards probably wasn't the best thing a Christian could say to a Muslim, but I'm pretty sure he got the gist that I was amazingly thankful.
I WhatsApp Yo (who bought wifi on the plane so she could keep in touch) and tel her the good news. Funnily because she had a 12 hour layover in Melbourne, initial investigations looked that I might even beat her there!

All grins and smiles, I try and get some sleep. We'd gambled, and it looked to have paid off.