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Stepping into Heathrows Terminal 4, ACDCs 'Can't Stand Still' pounding my ears, and anybody else's who happen to be be standing nearby, I can't help but smile. After weeks of planning, packing and visa mishaps, I am finally here. Ready to take on my next worldly venture... That is until I realise I am in the wrong terminal.
*Clears throat* ... Stepping into Heathrows Terminal 5, Willie Nelsons 'On The Road Again' then Dixie Chicks 'Taking The Long Way Round' (I'm sure the radio set its playlist for me today) pushing me forward. I search the screens for my flight. A few hours, time zones and 'Its always sunny in Philidelphia' episodes later, I arrive at Domodedovo Airport.
(If you're reading this as a friend or family member, you will know that I have never had a smooth or uncomplicated journey. Whether it be turning up at the wrong airport or losing my passport 2 days before I travel. So you wouldn't be shocked to hear that turning up at the wrong terminal, was not my only mishap...)
Half an hour, a few tears and some shrugging of shoulders later, I learn one of my suitcases in still in London. Of course this would be the suitcase that was filled with clothes for the year ahead.
A chorus of 'only you Michelle' surrounds me.
With no explanation, I sign forms, and leave not knowing if or when my suitcase would reappear *note to self-find some cheap shops, just in case*.
Spotting a sign with a name that almost resembled my own, I take a deep breath and head to the taxi driver. A quick nod and we're on our way. Driving through Moscow, I couldn't help but wonder... what journey lies ahead? ... .................................................................................................................
b******s! More like get the shot glasses out, I'm here!
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