Poor J spent two hours at the check in desk with the bitch from hell, who just kept telling him she couldn't let him check in yet, because she couldn't get through to reservations on the phone, while she made fun of him to other passengers... then she handed him a page from the rule book saying he couldn't fly at all! I was madly texting the airline on Twitter, and also his stepdad, who then got on the phone with them internationally, and finally they called J, sorted it all out behind the scenes and he was able to board with seconds to spare. Then, at his stopover, he was taken into a room for questioning by border patrol, warned that he might end up with a fine, sat there in complete stress, before finally being allowed to get on the next flight.
What a nightmare. I must have gone half grey in the process. But at least he has made it to Finland now.
Currently cooking an entire packet of bacon which was free. Eating it with cous cous, which J left behind.
Emptying his bedroom took most of the day... he didn't have much, but sorting and storing it was a pain. Possessions, they suck!
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