Airport Parking

Walking around the art galleries of Paris seemed an extraordinary, unnecessary and pointless ordeal. It?s not that I don?t like art, or her friends, but if I didn?t go then I?d only be at home sat around feeling miserable and missing her. My girlfriend of the past 6 months didn?t deserve a loner antisocial boyfriend, so I decided to do my best and walk around some cultural landmarks of France feeling miserable and missing home.

Another downside of this most definitely nightmare journey was the melee of friends she was bringing. Jane from Cardiff, Sarah from Glasgow, Chloe from Leeds, Jess from Bristol, Emma from... whatever happened to just having friends from across the road? Surely there could be some kind of friend swap system online, it would make things a whole lot easier on the environment.

Then there was the monetary cost. Ok, so she offered to pay for my flight from Heathrow Airport, parking included possibly, on a non-budget airline, which means I should be able to get a coffee without doubling the price of my plane ticket, but what about getting to Heathrow? She was flying from Leeds-Bradford airport, parking her car there. So I was to drive 2 hours to Heathrow, parking my car there. How much would fuel and airport parking cost? It seemed there was a whole mini-industry around these airports determined to fleece you every step of the way.

I sat there and looked out across the valley and thought why bother? The apparent futility of looking at pictures that I could just see in a book or online seemed a picnic compared to the stress and financial decimation of a 5 hour ?journey? consisting of traffic jams, plane rage and getting jostled by screaming hordes of tourists in Paris.

Instead of trying to look on the bright side ? baguettes, cheap wine, the vague amusement of looking at things on buildings but it being spelt in a foreign language ? I then worked out how much this whole trip was going to cost everybody and what more meaningful alternative was available.

Oh I forgot, that busybody Mary who I sincerely believe hates me for ever having the audacity to associate with her friend is flying from Newcastle airport, parking her car there. I?m losing count on the number of friends, was there a Ruthy or Amy? What?s that one with the back combed blonde hair that always seems to be on her way somewhere else when she?s just arrived at a social gathering? Ok, to go on the side of caution I make it seven of us, then multiply that by what I imagine the costs for each will be, and it comes to a number which, given the lack of proper research, I give incredible and faith and respect to.

It?s a vague and possibly wild guess at the cost of flights, airport parking, drinks and meals, but I arrive at a vague and possibly wild figure that amazingly comes to the exact amount needed to buy me a 250cc Vespa scooter and a full tank of petrol to allow me to drive off into the distance and never be seen again.

I grow less enthusiastic at this prospect as it dawns on me that I eventually would meet someone new in some far off place beyond the mountains and lakes that I would merrily drive by, and then be coerced again into trips to art exhibitions and museums.

Its not that I don?t appreciate culture, or even going abroad, I?m just not particularly partial to spending prolonged periods of time in the company of my girlfriend?s friends while they get all excited over some drawings. I like to shoot through galleries, you could call it speed-culture, and others might just call immaturity and impatience. I should learn some virtue, but I feel I would need it in the first place to get more of it.

Outside it?s a bright sunny day, and this supposedly ideal holiday weather translates to me the hideous concept of sitting in traffic jams with searing heat and choking smog. I add another hour to my drive time to the airport parking lot to allow for the inevitable delays, wrong turns and motorway tailbacks.

It?s nearly time to book my ticket and arrange the Heathrow airport parking online, so I call her to check the weekend break is still on and there hasn?t been some sort of collective despondency and desolation akin to mine on the part of her friends... and of course there isn?t. I try one last polite, understated course of evasive action by implying that since all her friends would be flying from different airports it might be tricky all meeting up. She replies firmly that that wouldn?t be happening since we?d all been booked into the same hotel. She cheerily adds: ?I?ll be using the Edinburgh airport parking, it?s simple and straightforward, why don?t you use the meet and greet parking at Heathrow??

I sense a faint glimmer of hope in this seemingly disastrous escapade ? yes I suppose I could pay more money to make travelling less inconvenient, even though I could save a lot more simply by not going away at all.

Yet I find it difficult to find a reason not to agree, which makes me feel miserable and helpless as it increasingly becomes apparent that I am fixed on a path to art gallery and theatre going oblivion. I look again for a bright side, but the light at the end of the tunnel is a fluorescent energy saving light bulb that hangs over a watercolour by Monet.

She detects, or guesses, an element of discouragement in me, so then encouragingly adds: ?It?ll be a great experience baby.?

?That?s what scares me,? I think to myself.

After I put the telephone down I consider why I?m actually going. I guess whatever it is we?d be doing together, it?s not the hassle of flying and finding the East Midlands airport parking or whatever, it?s being with her that really counts.

Purple Parking are currently working on a new website which will go live in March 2008. I have been given access to review the site and here is the video: