Other highlights have included being stuck terrified in an Azerbaijani taxi as our driver reversed wildly down a main street so quickly he overtook a bus heading the right direction, inadvertently attending a Drag Queen Pageant in our hotel bar in Washington D.C and taking a vomit-inducing tuk-tuk journey over a hill to a press conference in Phuket before blagging a lift back with the Thailand Sports Minister.

My visit to Mexico City earlier this month for the World Taekwondo Federation (WTF) Grand Prix Finals and World Cup Team Championships was littered with such occasions.

On a rest day for competitors, the main attraction was the WTF’s annual Gala Awards reception at the beautiful National Theatre in the heart of the city. The venue was stunning, as were some of the performances and visual effects. Unfortunately, this was undermined somewhat by a ceremony where the local organisers suffered a cacophony of “logistical difficulties”. That was putting it very mildly.

One band were asked to repeat their performance because it had not been caught on the television feed, while a prize-giver stood in silence for several moments before admitting she “didn’t know what to say because her auto-cue had stopped working".

On several occasions the name of the wrong winner was displayed on the screen, or that of the right winner before they had been announced. And then the presenter for the Male Athlete of the Year award turned out to be the recipient, although he initially stood in silence due to not knowing who had won as the name of one of his rivals mistakenly appeared on the screen behind him.

My parents had emailed me earlier in the day telling me they were attending our local village primary school nativity play, and I was left wondering if some of those children could be hired as consultants to help out here. The funny thing was, however, is that all the problems added to the atmosphere and occasion, creating an enjoyable event which will live long in the memory.

Yet by the time it had finished I was beginning to get worried. Naturally, there was no internet access anywhere in the venue, and I had been tasked with putting together our daily e-alert, which must be created and sent out by 6.30am British time, so 12.30am in Mexico.

All my European-based colleagues were fast asleep as the clock counted down, with my hotel - and therefore internet access - a one hour drive away.

The only available bus was taking everyone else to dinner in a Korean restaurant, something of a tradition on taekwondo trips, and my attempts to commandeer the vehicle once we arrived were thwarted by a reluctant driver who was adamant he had come to the end of his shift. However much I mimed and gesticulated towards my watch, he was not going to budge.

We eventually settled on a compromise wherein he would help flag-down a taxi rather than drive me himself. As one braked violently to a halt beside us, however, I remembered I had been told horror stories the night before of the dangers of hailing random cabs in Mexico City. I therefore chickened out, and was beginning to despair when our long-suffering translator appeared to help organise transport and get me back online in time, at the expense only of a Korean dinner.

The following morning our desk editor asked if I would be able to do the e-alert again the next night and I answered with ill-judged confidence: "Yes, of course", as I was bound to have a lot more time.

Soon after we were invited to a dinner with taekwondo officials, which we would leave for after I had interviewed the world governing body’s head, Chungwon Choue, one of the many great characters of the Olympic Movement.

We sat down in the VIP lounge as a selection of snacks were brought over, which I was just about to tuck into when I felt a hand on my arm. “Don’t be silly and eat anything now,” warned Dr Choue in a fatherly tone. “You won’t have any appetite left for dinner.”

Food ignored, we began our interview, with the fervent cheers of Mexican taekwondo fans meaning I had to move closer and closer in order to hear what he was saying. Choue told me about his plans to introduce beach taekwondo, with athletes wearing far “skimpier” clothing, and to roll out his flagship Taekwondo Humanitarian Foundation scheme to orphanages as well as refugee camps.

A good idea, but one that for some reason got me thinking all Dickensian and wondering how many extra portions of gruel Oliver Twist would have had to ask for if he had spent half of the day practicing taekwondo…

Once finished, it turned out everyone else had already departed for the dinner. “Not to worry,” declared President Choue, with all the warmth and efficiency of a natural PR man. “You can come with me.”

So we set off in his Presidential car, flanked by three police motorbikes as an escort. Unfortunately, it soon transpired that an escort isn’t much use in a chaotic and gridlocked system in Mexico City. Led by a particularly daring female officer, the trio would weave in and out of traffic, coming perilously close to us and other vehicles before occasionally darting forward to fiercely block the flow of cars arriving from an adjoining road as horns blared furiously all around us.

Eventually, it transpired that we had gone the wrong way, and, after much discussion and changes of direction, we arrived at a restaurant to find it empty and bereft of taekwondo top brass. Plenty of panicked phone calls ensued and, completely out of my depth, I was left standing alongside Choue tutting while really rather enjoying the situation.

We finally arrived at the correct restaurant - Chinese, this time - with everyone having patiently waited for us before standing up as we arrived. I was able to make up for my missed meals by tucking in with gusto, managing to avoid doing anything too embarrassing as I feigned competence with chopsticks, while also making use of the WiFi to finish my stories and the e-alert during dinner.

President Choue, meanwhile, had recovered from the ordeal of the journey, and seemed to have good governance on the brain, “Where’s your sense of transparency?” he chuckled, admonishing one senior official for having the audacity not to refill his glass to the brim as requested, before working the room with the ease of a grizzled and experienced statesman.

It was a good performance, and it is great that we journalists still get access to situations and people like this, as it gives you an impression of how things really work.

It got me thinking. We have seen this year how the sports world is anything but perfect, and some “old style” practices often lend themselves to a litany of scandals, as in athletics and football.

Yet an old fashioned approach, littered with bizarre situations you would hardly ever experience in real politics or life, is not completely bad, and, if nothing else, tends to make it all rather fun.