Well here we go again. It’s holidays month (yes that is a real thing in our world). Karen and I have taken the P’s on holiday to Poland. We have a job share with my sister Nikki where she takes them to Spain and we take them to ex-communist countries. Can you guess who is the favourite child is? We have come to Warsaw. We have never been here before, but they liked Poland when we bought them here previously so we thought, why not.

We flew Wizz Air from Liverpool and instead of being on a stupidly early flight, we were on one at 11:50. So working it back, check in at 10, leave at 9? “Oooh no” says Mrs AA Roadwatch Karen. “There are roadworks at the end of the Knowsley Expressway, we should pick up mum and dad at 8:45 at the latest. So we did. We were in the car park at John Lennon airport by 9:25. Check in didn’t open until 9:50. Luckily it then took us a good 20 minutes to find a parking apace so we actually arrived at the check in bang on 9:50. Unfortunately half the flight had arrived before us.
We have flown Wizz Air a couple of times before, and I like them, but they haven’t got the knack of how to queue people. EasyJet has adopted the snaking queueing system for all flights. Wizz Air had one long queue and 2 cheery check in girls (one of those facts is a lie. Can you guess which one?). Then, they split the queue. So this was the first major dilemma of the journey. Which queue do we go with? This is like a high stakes game of Black Jack. Do we stick, or twist? Inevitably I would get it wrong. I am the person who jumps across when a new checkout is opened at the supermarket only to find that I have the slowest operator in the store. I took a split second decision. We are staying with this queue. It was the right decision. We sailed through. I looked at the the heavily tattooed couple who we stood in front of us in the single queue and they were miles back in their new queue. Back of the net. Fenner 1 – Queuing Demons 0.  
We sauntered up to security where again, we has the queuing dilemma. Instead of telling us which queue to join the security guard said “join either queue”. The pressure was on. I had made the right decision going with the right queue last time (by right I mean as against left. Not as in the correct queue. Well actually it was also the correct queue, so it was the right, right queue. But not the far right queue, that was for Daily Mail readers, but I digress). Should I go right again? I did. I succeeded. Again we sailed through. I say we, dad and I were fine. Karen was sent to the body scanner to do YMCA and Robocop mum set off all the alarms with her bionic knees and was scanned again, frisked and had her shoes and iPad swabbed. When we left security there was a man having his hand luggage checked and seemed to be producing a market stall full of perfume from it, all in bottles larger that 100ml. We walked past him muttering “idiot” to ourselves. Fenner 2 – Queuing Demons 0. 
The flight was smooth and uneventful so we arrived at Warsaw ready to get going and find our accomodation. We just had to get through passport control. The bus from the plane ejected us into a cattle market. There were at least 8 people on the gates, but no discernible queuing system. We were resolutely at the end of the queue/crowd. I went to the toilet and when I came back, we were no further on, but no longer at the back. Another plane had arrived and those passengers joined us and had pushed in in front of us. 40 minutes later, we eventually made it to baggage reclaim. Fenner 2 – Queuing Demons 100. I made my way to belt 8 to pick up our bags, but we had been so long in the queue that the belt had stopped moving and the name on the screen had actually changed to the next flight. I noticed 4 unclaimed bags, 2 of which, I’m glad too say, were ours.

Now we could look forward to getting to our accomodation. I ordered an Uber and tried to a) work out where the pick up point was and b) try and recognise what a Skoda Fabia looked like. We eventually spotted him (a Skoda Fabia by the way is small). He pulled over and parked right on the zebra crossing. We began loading our cases in when we were joined by a rather annoyed policeman who began chastising our driver for parking on the zebra crossing. Being English, we did what we do best and quietly packed the bags in the boot, then quietly packed ourselves into the car and patiently waited. Eventually our driver made his peace with the police officer and we headed off into Warsaw rush hour. At 5:00 pm we arrived at our accomodation and joined a queue of one to pick up our keys…

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