No turning back

So it's 2am and I'm waiting for my mate to pick me up to drive me to Heathrow Airport.  Only a select few actually know where i'm 'truthfully' going - as I said I was off to Dublin to see a mate, just so they didn't worry and ring me 24/7! But little did they know that their little boy was about to embark on a 36 hour journey, covering 7,000 miles, to reach somewhere he's longed to go. It wasn't until we got onto the M25 (motorway that orbits London), and seeing the planes take off above us, that I realised that this was it, I'm losing contact with everyone I know for just over 2 weeks and there was no turning back.

I got out of my mate's car and took my rucksack from the boot and hurled it onto the Terminal pavement, knowing that this would be the last time before I go that I'd be out in the Great British elements.

It was still dark at 03:45 when I saw the tail lights of the car go into the distance before I turned to the Terminal building, looked up, and walked in. There, I saw a row of screens of scheduled flights for that day, with mine being near the front - 06:55 to Doha, Qatar.

I went to the Qatar Airways check-in desk where 4 other passengers queued to the abandoned desks. Then just as I gathered my documents together, a troop of check-in staff marched down the gangway and took seats at each desk. The queue became short very quickly and within the minute it was my turn to check-in, handing over everything I had. I parted from my rucksack, was given my boarding card, then made my way up the escalator and sat down in the coffee shop with my Latte.

I watched as groups of passengers revived themselves with caffeine, all of them had either friends/partners/family, but I had my phone - just to say thanks to Steve for the lift up there. I grew impatient and went through security just to get to the departure lounge where I just had to be beckoned to my gate for boarding.