Good Morning from Bangkok.. to recap what happened over the past couple of days. Let’s pick up from the morning ride to MAN.

Everything was going according to plan… until it wasn’t.

We boarded on time in Manchester. We sat. And sat. Eventually, the captain came on with that charmingly vague update: “Just a minor technical issue, should be a 30-minute delay.”Fine. I had a 6-hour layover in Zurich, so I wasn’t worried. Yet.

Thirty minutes later, we received another update: “Actually, it’s an indefinite delay. You’ll need to deplane.” Cue collective sigh and the slow realisation that we'd become temporary residents of Gate B4. The deplaning took another hour—apparently, buses were harder to find than award availability to Europe in school holidays. By the time we got off, we’d spent 2.5 hours onboard, going absolutely nowhere.

Back in the terminal, a Swissport rep greeted us with a classic piece of travel fiction: “The flight isn’t cancelled, just delayed indefinitely, and Swiss will rebook you on all missed connections—even separate tickets.” I’ve spent enough time on frequent flyer forums to know that was about as believable as a Ryanair “comfort” guarantee.

While others queued politely for false hope, I got to work—mentally limbering up for a full-blown award booking gymnastics session. It was 11:00am, and I had about 4.5 hours to make it to Zurich if I wanted to salvage my flight. Spoiler: there were no viable options. So, I cut my losses, cancelled the entire ZRH-BKK-MEL award, and started heading in anyvaguely eastward direction.

I spotted availability on Air India First, LHR–BOM, and pounced on it. No idea how I’d get home from there, but that was a future-me problem. I also booked a one-way car rental through Sixt, because when in doubt, drive.

By 1pm I was officially offloaded and standing at the Sixt counter, clutching keys and hope. Google Maps promised I’d get to LHR by 4:30pm—leaving a generous cushion for my 9:00pm departure. Ha. As if.

Soon, ETA creep set in. First 4:45. Then 5:15. By the time I passed Birmingham (yes, again), it was 5:45. Eventually, I rolled into LHR at 6:15pm, heroically navigated a couple of accidents and roadworks, and returned the car.

By 7pm, I was in the Singapore Airlines First Lounge, clutching a well-earned drink with the slightly haunted look of a man who’s aged several years in one afternoon.

Naturally, I wasn’t done yet. I started scouring for onward options from BOM. I still wanted to make it to Bangkok and salvage the remnants of my Thai stopover. Found a seat on AI BOM–BKK in J, with a 3-hour connection. Is it risky to do a tight connection on separate tickets again? Yes. Am I doing it anyway? Also yes. At this point, it was either that or surrender to Heathrow Terminal 2.

I also found an onward TG flight to SYD, so in a shocking twist, the plan was back on track. I'd arrive in BKK 10 hours later than planned, but still with enough time for mango sticky rice and a nap. I’ll take it.

Upon arrival in BOM, I made a beeline for the transfer desk, only to be told I couldn’t use it without an onward boarding pass. Classic. So I entered India legally—for all of 20 glorious minutes—before checking in, breezing through security, and popping into the Adani West Lounge to reflect on my life choices.

The BOM–BKK flight was predictably delayed due to ATC restrictions, landing an hour late. But eventually, I made it to the hotel in Bangkok and fell into bed like a man who’d fought the system and won. Barely.

p.s Lx391 actually left at 13:30 and reached ZRH at 16:30, so in theory I could have still made it, but it was too much of a risk at the time.