The mammy walking through the grounds of St. Philip's Cathedral, Birmingham
I had asked her to buy me tickets to Fall Out Boy, my favourite band growing up, (reserve your judgement for someone who gives a shit), when they announced a show in Ireland for March.
Naturally, she bought tickets for their show ... In Birmingham.
"Ah sure, we'll just go to Birmingham for the weekend. Be grand."
My mam's cock-up had turned into my first holiday abroad in six years. Result.
I was unbearably excited. I wore the ears off everything talking about the trip. We were due to fly over from at 6:45 am, the night after my school awards. I had frantically prepared an extensive itinerary - we would visit Cadbury World, Birmingham Aquarium, the Jewellery Quarter, Winterbourne House & Garden ...
"Go to bed now and make sure you're up in the morning." Callista 'Two Hours Early' Jones told me.
5.45am.
Five forty five. Am.
"FIONNUALA, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO LEG IT!"
"Why?"
"BECAUSE'S IT'S QUARTER TO SIX!"
What ensued was possibly the shittest episode of 24 ever ... Teeth were brushed, blood pressures rose, clothes were thrown on as Frank 'I Don't Obey The Speed Limit It Obeys Me' Jones finally came in handy. Half an hour to get to the airport - the race was on.
We were subsequently hurled out of the car, scrambling up the escalator in departures. We joined the queue at our gate: at this stage, years had been put on to me, and I was pretty sure Callista was going to collapse. We began organising our liquids into clear plastic bags (because, naturally, we'd forgotten to do that), and I silently said prayers to whatever deity had decided to scupper our plans to let it go, just this once.
6.30am.
We plowed through baggage as an exasperated flight attendant called our names over the tannoy. Onwards to security. For whatever reason, my mam had decided to wear whatever metal objects she could find in the house. As I breezed through, she was held up for a full body pat down. There I was, surrounded by all the things I loved - tax free alcohol and cosmetics - what was I do to do?
"GO FIONNUALA! JUST TELL THEM I'M COMING!" My mam's voice carried through the duty free.
I turned and ran, hand luggage bobbing, straining for breath. Never before had I wished I'd used my DCU gym membership more than right at that moment. Breathlessly, I told the flight attendant about my situation and scurried on to the plane.
I was now on a plane, by myself, in the midst of the Malaysian airline crisis. Was this the end?
Queue Callista trundling up the aisle. Admittedly, she didn't speak for the majority of the journey, only to occasionally make delirious remarks about the reliability of her phone alarm.
"Next time make sure you set one as well." she told me as we landed.
We arrived at our hotel at quarter past 9, had a breakfast, and began tourist-ing. We headed straight to the Bullring shopping centre, where the credit cards were melted. Five hours later and 500 bags heavier, we trekked back, admiring St. Philip's Cathedral in the centre of town on the way.
Mid afternoon naps were followed by watching Ireland's glorious Six Nations' win in the comfort of our room, before dinner in All Bar One.
The following day saw a trip to The Jewellery Quarter in the sunshine, before more shopping. We watched the St. Patrick's Day parade - the biggest in Europe, would you believe - before heading back to the hotel before more naps.
That evening, I watched my favourite band for the last six years, Fall Out Boy, annihilate the stage. I suffered a punch to the face, and almost sweated my skin cells off, but it was well worth it.
And so, my 'wild' weekend away had come to an end, and the beds beckoned us before another nosebleed flight in the wee hours.
We set two alarms this time. And a wake-up call. Just in case.
Oh, and before I forget ...
Hi Jason and Maria!
For more on my trip to Birmingham, check out my Instagram and my Tumblr! Don't forget to follow me on Twitter either!
