England and Scotland for Dad's 70th
Day 1 -
Wednesday/Thursday - Atlanta/England
Pre-flight - Atlanta Hartsfield International
Airport - Wednesday evening
After we kiss Mom goodbye and stand in the way
long line, baggage check-in lady says, according to Dad, that we need
to go
to Concourse C, gate E 27.
Nah, that's not right, I say as we
walk toward the concourses. Gate E would be in Concourse E.
So Dad's pretty sure she said C, he doesn't know,
maybe, um...
It's the beginning of his big trip, if he has
doubts, I'll check, no
problem. So at some airline line, I step in and say "E gates are
in
Concourse E, right?"
She says "International flights?
Concourse E -- go downstairs to the train and get off at Concourse
C."
I stop.
"C?" I ask.
"E!!!" the guy in line barks
at me.
I KNEW that, but it sounded like (because the S at
the end
of concourse makes the E sound like C) -- oh, never mind. I told
Dad he couldn't hang around me anymore.
The flight itself was faaaaaaaabulous. We
travelled "World Traveller" because ticketwise it's economy, us not
knowing that British Airwayswise it's 1st class treatment - free
headphones for the movie, pillow and blanket in every seat, choice of
meals (menu handed to you) and complimentary drinks. First Class
got bigger seats, a choice of 44 movies and other stuff I don't
understand or care about - we're comfy. Most coolest thing was
everyone had a video screen on the back of the chair in front of them,
so you put on your headsets and rest back to view your movie without
craning around someone's head. Totally, totally my favorite
part. When the movies (For
Richer, For Poorer - ugh - and L.A.
Confidential - YEA! excellent movie for plane stuckage) started,
I got
concerned about Dad's monitor because it wasn't working. When I
leaned in to try to fix it, he looked at me concerned and asked why
wasn't my monitor working and we realized the screen was set for
straight-on viewing (on angled viewing it looked black, so as not to
distract neighbors).
We saw the sun set and rise, and knew England
wasn't far.
I would be relaxed at soon as we got to my pal
Francesca's (our Sicilian London hostess). She was leaving for
work at 9
a.m. and we needed to get there before then. But our plane landed
shortly after 6 a.m. and customs was quick and easy. So we take
the cool Gatwick Express train to Victoria Station in London, drag our
heavy suitcases to the taxi queue, taxi our way to Knightsbridge
(fashionable neighborhood, home of Harrod's and of Fergie's former gang
The Sloane Rangers) and by 8 a.m. meet our fabulous hostess Francesca,
who happily gives us the horrible news that she's on the 3rd floor,
there are twice as many flights of stairs, and there's no lift (this is
her new flat she's bought since I last visited).
Going on no
sleep at all from the flight, we hilariously and out-of-breathly drag
our suitcases up the final flight and hew-hew-hew our way through
opening conversations with Francesca (she's stayed at both my parents'
house and my house in Georgia, so Dad knew her too). She leaves
her extra set of keys for us and goes to work, Dad naps back in his
little
guest room, I crash on the sofa. An hour or so later, I awake to
thunder and rain - excellent weather to force you to stay in and
nap. Dad's awake and looking through a travel book Francesca left
for us, I tell him to get more sleep and nod off again.
Afternoon, the sun's out, we're shaking the groggy
off us, and finally get clear-headed enough for a restful bus tour of
London (my theory - you don't feel like you're in England until you've
seen Big Ben - do the bus tour for the big picture, then the individual
sites over the days feel better). So after some hassling with the
locks and keys of the apartment doors, we take the Underground to
Piccadilly Circus and pick
up a Double Decker tour bus and see all the necessary things -
especially Trafalgar Square, which I never find worth travelling to
(famous statues, pigeons and tourists), but you have to see it and we
did - check that off the list.
The tour lasts an extra half hour due to its rush
hour scheduling, and we make it back to the flat minutes before
Francesca returns from work to cook us a fabulous meal, homemade
bar-b-que chicken. She finally confessed to me what I could have
brought her from the States (after I asked her a couple of times before
leaving) was muffin mix (so tasty and easy to make in the morning),
bar-b-que sauce (not really available) and chocolate chip cookies (not
really good in England) since onion rings would have been cold upon
arrival and smelled up the suitcase.
At dinner, Dad asked
her what she did for a living, and after several lengthy sentences and
extra words about influencing some political people's vote, Dad said "A
lobbyist?"
And she brightened and said "Yes! A
lobbyist! I forget you know what that is!"
She said the
States and England were about the only countries who had them, and
after nearly 10 years her mother back in Sicily still doesn't know.
Then ensued the ordeal of making up the beds.
We had to stuff 2 duveys (or was it we stuffed the duvey covers with
the duveys?) - anyway, down-filled comforter thingys into their covers,
and threw one on Dad's sofa pull out and the other on my three sofa
cushions lined up on the floor and wrapped in a sheet. I didn't
know if they would stay together or if I'd wake up with my head off one
and my right foot on top of another, but we'll see.
I drift to
sleep worrying about how we're going to cram it all into less then 2
weeks (it's all ready on Friday morning).
England and
Scotland for Dad's 70th
Travel Journals
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