Glasgow, Parte 2

A minha história continua...

So, we arrived in Glasgow on the 29th, in the evening, and caught a taxi to the hotel. The driver was young and immediately asked if we were coming for the Take That concert. He had already driven another group of women that day, that had come in for the concert. And as he saw such a big group of women at the airport (before us, there was a group of more than 12 women) he guessed it might be for Take That.

We talked about things to see in Glasgow and so on, and in the middle of the highway, he suddenly pulls over to the side and tells us he has to check something. Me and my sister are imediately on the alert. I personally was ready to kick and scream my way out. He took a turn around the car and got back in and admitted that he thought something was wrong with the tires, because he felt the car wobble, but when he got out of the car he realized he was feeling dizzy.

My sister's medical training kicked in, asked how he was feeling, ordered him to eat something, which he did, asked a dozen questions and so 10 minutes passed. He told us he would call a colleague to take us the rest of the way, but he started feeling better and so, ended up taking us to our destinantion, safe and sound. But what a scare! In the end, we wished him well and off he went.

The hotel was right next to the SECC, we went up to our room, ate the sandwiches my mother had prepared, with the sodas we had bought at Heathrow, phoned my parents and went to bed.

Next day: the show