So, onto the plane. It was fine. It was a bit surprising to have booked on Etihad long haul and to be climbing onto a Jet Airways regional aircraft but by that point I didn’t care. If it would have got me home, I’d have been happy in a flying shed with deckchairs.
The change in schedule ruined the next two days from the point of view of being able to work effectively. My meetings could not be re-arranged and, at home, I was in the dog-house for having missed a dinner I was supposed to be cooking although at least I’d been able to make (at my own expense) calls from Abu Dhabi to tell people where I was stranded and that I’d be back far too late to be any use. And I had the most horrible combination of jet lag and recovery from over-tiredness, part of which was due to repeatedly legging it through the airport with my luggage.
The airline had a lot to answer for. But would I get a proper answer? For sure, the decision was made: I had a return ticket and I would use that but that would be the last time I would ever get on an Etihad plane. After all, it’s a simple matter: I contract for them to take me from A to B and, in the absence of some catastrophic failure, a volcano erupting or really bad weather, I expect them to do so and if they fail, to make up for it.
That, it seems is not the way that Etihad thinks.