I have dreamt of seeing Ireland for as long as I can remember — the rolling green hills, the cozy pubs humming with laughter, and the quick wit of the Irish people. What I didn’t dream of? A cancelled flight, an unexpected detour through Barcelona and London Heathrow, and five days without luggage.
For our flight to Dublin, we opted to fly out of Calgary since Westjet offers a direct Dreamliner service. And when you're flying all the way from Western Canada to Europe, you know how precious those direct flights are. Sure, it's a long overnight haul, but avoiding tight connections in the U.S. or chaotic European hubs? Worth its weight in Guinness!
The Calm Before the (Travel) Storm
Following the advise I give all of my clients, we arrived 3 hours early. We had checked in online, so all we needed to do was tag, weigh, and drop our bags before heading through security. Security, of course, was a circus...but we made it through and thought we would relax in the Westjet lounge for dinner and drinks. That plan vanished pretty fast when we saw the wait times. So, we found another restaurant, sat down...and that's when my phone buzzed.
A text from Westjet: "You've been issued meal vouchers."
Suspicious.
I hadn't received any delay notices - just these mysterious vouchers. Then another text...more vouchers, still not updates. And then, the dreaded message appeared: Our flight had been cancelled.
Oh my goodness...now what?!!
When the Travel Advisor's Brain Goes Blank
You would think being a travel advisor, I would instantly spring into action. Spoiler: I froze for a solid 2 minutes. Once my brain rebooted, I told my husband we need to find the gate to get answers. The Westjet agents were kind but overwhelmed, advising us to sit tight for rebooking updates. Thankfully, I followed by own golden rule and (and the peace of mind) built in buffer days before and after our CIE Tour - a decision that quite literally saved our trip.
Since options from Calgary to Europe are limited, I knew we needed to get somewhere across the Atlantic that night. Just before we got to baggage claim, we spotted the Westjet guest services desk and I made a beeline for it. I explained our situation, emphasized our tour departure, and the wonderful agent started calling and typing furiously. Moments later, she offered us a flight to Barcelona that left in the next hour.
Barcelona?!! That was not exactly west of Ireland. But she continued - from Barcelona, we would connect to London Heathrow, then onto Dublin. The travel advisor in me was screaming "Those connections are impossible!" The traveler in me was screaming, "We have no choice - RUN!"
Barcelona Bound (and Barely Awake)
Trying to roll with it! LOL. Last ones on the plane. Utter shock to be flying to BCN.
The flight was surprisingly smooth. We managed a few cat naps, watched movies, and ate everything the flight attendants handed us (we missed dinner and who knows when we would eat again). We landed in Barcelona, cleared customs, and began hunting for our next gate. Easier said than done.
The signage in the airport was...well, lets just say it wasn't built for sleep-deprived Canadians. Between the language barrier and a total lack of info desks, we wandered around like confused players on the The Amazing Race.
Finally, we found someone who directed us to a bus that would take us to another terminal We spotted it ready to pull away. After a sprint, we caught it just in time and made it to Terminal 1.
Even then, we struggled to find British Airways check in. With 30 minutes left before departure, we finally located an info desk. The attendant pointed us towards customs - again - and security - again. We bolted through both and reached the gate with 5 minutes to spare. Victory!
London Calling (Barely)
We collapsed into our seats for the two-hour flight to London and dozed off immediately. But Heathrow had other plans. When we landed, there was no one to operate the jet bridge. Every minute felt like a small eternity ticking away.
When we finally disembarked, we sprinted again — through customs, through security (again), and across Terminal 5. Thankfully, staff saw our desperate faces and waved us through the fast track. We were, once more, the last two people to board. They shut the door behind us as we collapsed into our seats, equal parts exhausted and amazed.
We’d done it. We were actually on our way to Dublin.
Arrival...Kind OfAn hour later, we were descending into Dublin — that magical emerald island we’d been talking about for months. Our adventure was finally beginning! We disembarked, floated through arrivals on pure relief, and waited for our luggage.
And waited.
And waited.
When the carousel stopped, our worst fears were confirmed: no bags. We’d both secretly suspected this might happen (after all, who trusts a three-airport reroute?). Still, it felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke. Hungry, sleep-deprived, and now bag-less, we just looked at each other and laughed. What else could we do?
We hopped on the AirCoach to our hotel, clutching only our carry-ons, and began the glamorous process of calling airlines and planning a late-night shopping trip for pajamas and toothpaste. Because, as I reminded myself — this is travel. Things go sideways. But with a little humor, flexibility, and the right pre-planning, the story often ends up better than the plan.
By the time we finally reached our hotel, armed with nothing but our carry-ons and sheer determination, I realized this wasn’t the Ireland arrival I had imagined — but it was one I’d never forget. Between cancelled flights, lost luggage, and marathon sprints through European airports, we’d officially earned our traveler stripes. And while our first night in Dublin involved emergency shopping at Penneys (love me some shopping at Penneys) instead of pints at the pub, it also set the tone for an adventure filled with resilience, laughter, and plenty of stories to tell.
But this is only the beginning. In my next post, I’ll share how we navigated our first few days in Dublin — from impromptu wardrobe makeovers to touring the city’s historic landmarks and, of course, our first sip of Guinness high above the skyline. Spoiler alert: it was worth every bit of chaos getting there.
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