Lucky me! It's travelling day, and I get to wake up at 4:30 in the morning, call a cab and head down to the Airport, because my flight leaves at 6:00 a.m. I get to the airport at 5:10 a.m., and there's already a really long lineup to get through security. Good thing I'm early.
Not early enough, apparently. The lineup is really really slow. I keep glancing at the clock, and it's getting later and later, and I am getting more and more tense as the line continues to move REALLY slowly. The lineup behind me is getting crazy-long and that's my only consolation - until some bleeding heart airport employee starts letting latecomers butt in line. "Why do they get to sneak in ahead of us?!" I exclaim to everyone and no one. Helpful guy next to me says, "Cause they'll never make it through the line otherwise. Their flight leaves at 6:30." I pop gasket. "So fricking what? Mine leaves at 6:00!!!" Helpful guy stands aside to let me go in front of him (or perhaps, just to let me detonate safely out of range). Thanks, helpful guy! Unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished, and a few other 6-am-ers also leap forward.
However, I get through security and rush off to get on my plane. Whew! Another passenger points out that even though the PA announcers keep saying "you should already be on your plane," if your baggage has been checked, they're going to wait for you, because your baggage isn't travelling without you. I am still annoyed at the fact that they decide to have 5 different flights leaving at 6 a.m., and only have two of the security desks in operation.
Anyhoo, got to Toronto. Whoop-de-doo. Monica and I apparently spent some time wandering back and forth through the Airport looking for each other. Finally met up at our departure gate, where we got to wait happily for another four hours. Boy, that airport is just full of FUN. (Not.)
When finally getting on our plane to London, we discover that our seats are right next to the toilets. Theoretically, this could be a good thing. In reality, it means you listen to "ker-SLAMMM! whooooshhh!" constantly. One especial dimwit kept slamming the door and obviously couldn't figure out how to close it - once he did, the stewardess came rushing along because he'd pushed the emergency call button as well. Yes - instead of using the latch that's ON THE DOOR, try pushing every button you see. That'll work. (Too bad there's no Eject button.)
Monica was pleased to discover the wine was free, and mentioned to me how one glass equals two when you're flying, due to altitude, etc. So she drank her wine and proceeded to heckle "Tristan and Isolde", which was the in-flight movie. It was like a British version of Braveheart where the British were the poor oppressed good guys. When Monica retorted back to one of the characters that "you guys will oppress and destroy the Irish!", I had to remind her that our plane was going to Heathrow. Oh yeah. British people onboard. Right.
However, the film did have that everpresent annoying anachronism, the strong-willed spirited girl who "wants to marry for love." Aargh. Drives me nuts. Okay, so it's Tristan and Isolde, so I'll give it a bit of a break. Anyway, Tristan and Isolde met, started giving each other googly eyes, and then the film broke. Not a good portent for their prospective romance. The pilot put on "Matchpoint" instead, which was kind of slow, so we went to sleep instead. Or tried to.
I dreamt that I was in an upright plane seat, next to a banging door (ker-SLAM! whoosh!), with people standing nearby, chatting and laughing while waiting in line (at least until Monica swore at them, at which point they got a little quieter). Five minutes later I woke up, because it was time for my cake-for-breakfast muffin, orange juice, and yuck-yogurt.
We must be near Heathrow, because I look out the window and see a plane. I've NEVER seen another plane that close. When I was landing in Paris at CDG, I could see the jet trails from all the planes, and a wee little plane if I squinted, but this was a very visible airplane taking off - looked about toy plane size from the window. At least we never got close enough for me to see the horrified expressions of "oops!" on the other pilots' faces. ;-)
Yay, the plane landed! Heathrow looks like a great big collection of boxes. A whole collection on shipping boxes in the foreground, boxy buildings in the background, and lotso planes wandering around.
Now to see if they'll actually let us into England...
Not early enough, apparently. The lineup is really really slow. I keep glancing at the clock, and it's getting later and later, and I am getting more and more tense as the line continues to move REALLY slowly. The lineup behind me is getting crazy-long and that's my only consolation - until some bleeding heart airport employee starts letting latecomers butt in line. "Why do they get to sneak in ahead of us?!" I exclaim to everyone and no one. Helpful guy next to me says, "Cause they'll never make it through the line otherwise. Their flight leaves at 6:30." I pop gasket. "So fricking what? Mine leaves at 6:00!!!" Helpful guy stands aside to let me go in front of him (or perhaps, just to let me detonate safely out of range). Thanks, helpful guy! Unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished, and a few other 6-am-ers also leap forward.
However, I get through security and rush off to get on my plane. Whew! Another passenger points out that even though the PA announcers keep saying "you should already be on your plane," if your baggage has been checked, they're going to wait for you, because your baggage isn't travelling without you. I am still annoyed at the fact that they decide to have 5 different flights leaving at 6 a.m., and only have two of the security desks in operation.
Anyhoo, got to Toronto. Whoop-de-doo. Monica and I apparently spent some time wandering back and forth through the Airport looking for each other. Finally met up at our departure gate, where we got to wait happily for another four hours. Boy, that airport is just full of FUN. (Not.)
When finally getting on our plane to London, we discover that our seats are right next to the toilets. Theoretically, this could be a good thing. In reality, it means you listen to "ker-SLAMMM! whooooshhh!" constantly. One especial dimwit kept slamming the door and obviously couldn't figure out how to close it - once he did, the stewardess came rushing along because he'd pushed the emergency call button as well. Yes - instead of using the latch that's ON THE DOOR, try pushing every button you see. That'll work. (Too bad there's no Eject button.)
Monica was pleased to discover the wine was free, and mentioned to me how one glass equals two when you're flying, due to altitude, etc. So she drank her wine and proceeded to heckle "Tristan and Isolde", which was the in-flight movie. It was like a British version of Braveheart where the British were the poor oppressed good guys. When Monica retorted back to one of the characters that "you guys will oppress and destroy the Irish!", I had to remind her that our plane was going to Heathrow. Oh yeah. British people onboard. Right.
However, the film did have that everpresent annoying anachronism, the strong-willed spirited girl who "wants to marry for love." Aargh. Drives me nuts. Okay, so it's Tristan and Isolde, so I'll give it a bit of a break. Anyway, Tristan and Isolde met, started giving each other googly eyes, and then the film broke. Not a good portent for their prospective romance. The pilot put on "Matchpoint" instead, which was kind of slow, so we went to sleep instead. Or tried to.
I dreamt that I was in an upright plane seat, next to a banging door (ker-SLAM! whoosh!), with people standing nearby, chatting and laughing while waiting in line (at least until Monica swore at them, at which point they got a little quieter). Five minutes later I woke up, because it was time for my cake-for-breakfast muffin, orange juice, and yuck-yogurt.
We must be near Heathrow, because I look out the window and see a plane. I've NEVER seen another plane that close. When I was landing in Paris at CDG, I could see the jet trails from all the planes, and a wee little plane if I squinted, but this was a very visible airplane taking off - looked about toy plane size from the window. At least we never got close enough for me to see the horrified expressions of "oops!" on the other pilots' faces. ;-)
Yay, the plane landed! Heathrow looks like a great big collection of boxes. A whole collection on shipping boxes in the foreground, boxy buildings in the background, and lotso planes wandering around.
Now to see if they'll actually let us into England...
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