Wednesday, April 26, Robin and I got up early, took everything down to the car, put the key to the townhouse in the lockbox and said goodbye to the seagulls and jackdaws. We left Conwy and drove the rental car to the rental car return at Manchester Airport. I called for a cab, and we waited. The man I spoke to said it would be ten minutes. After 20 minutes, we decided the cab was not forthcoming, and we hopped on a shuttle bus to the taxi stand at the airport terminal. That reads like it was easy. It wasn’t. Robin and I had an overloaded suitcase and carry on luggage each. Robin had her purses and I had a briefcase and a CPAP machine. Getting all that onto the shuttle was anything but easy, but we got loaded onto the bus, and off we went.
We picked up a cab, and he began the driver to the Manchester Piccadilly Train Station. Robin and I kept looking at our watches. We thought we had left Conwy with plenty of time to make the train, but the cab issue had eaten a lot of time up. Robin and I were actually preparing ourselves to change our train tickets. We were sanguine about the prospect. We knew we were going home, so the rest was just details. A small part of me was hoping we would be stuck in Wales. A small part of Robin wanted to kick that small part of me’s ass, because she, by God, was going to be near the grandkids, and I was hoping to be near her, whether I wanted to or not. After 34 years of marriage, I decided I wanted to be near her, so heading home was our goal. Another goal today was to make it through one day where I did not smell vanilla, or observe a climate-altering spell centered on my wife.
As it turned out, we got to the train station, identified our gate, and got there just as they were boarding. We trundled our luggage aboard, found our seats, and got ready to ride to London.
Check out of townhouse – Check
Return rental car – Check
Board train – Check
Avoid vanilla scent – Check, so far
The trip to London went without a hitch. Not so for the guy sitting next to me. The porter came through to check our tickets. When he checked the guy next to me, he found out he was on the wrong train. He should have boarded a train that left seven minutes earlier. He was heading to Birmingham, which was in a completely different direction than London. Fortunately, the guy could get off at the next stop and catch a connecting train to get him to the right destination.
The man sitting next to Robin was interesting. He was a young man, and seemed a decent fellow. During the course of our trip we learned that he would rather be anywhere else than where he was. He worked in Manchester, and had to ride a train a couple of hours a day to get from where he lived to where he worked. He was ruefully envious of the travel Robin and I were doing. It provided perspective for me. Robin and I were on a possible once-in-a-lifetime trip, and he was mired in everyday life. As I said, he seemed a decent bloke, so we wished him well when he got off, to be replaced by a young woman who was clearly traveling for business.
We arrived at Euston Station in London, and grabbed a cab to take us to our hotel near Heathrow Airport. We were looking forward to checking in, and just resting before our flight on Thursday. Our travel agent had booked us a room at a four-star hotel, so we had that going for us. The cab ride seemed to take forever, but we finally arrived at the Radisson Blu Heathrow. The main lobby of the hotel indicated we were definitely in a swanky place. I immediately felt uncomfortable, Robin immediately looked like she was in her element.
We had arrived a bit before our check-in time, but they allowed us to check in early and we headed to our room. The walk from the front desk to our room seemed to take as long as our train ride, but we finally got to our room. We went in and…there were two twin beds. Robin and I stopped at the sight. It had been decades since Robin and I had slept in a twin bed. We looked at each other and shrugged. It was for one night, and we were going home.
Take train to London – Check
Take cab to hotel – Check
Check into hotel – Check
Avoid vanilla scent – Check, so far
The Radisson Blue had a McDonalds next door. Robin thought it would be neat to see how different the food would be from an American McDonald’s. Turns out it’s not all that different. You placed your order at a self-service kiosk, waited until they called your number, got your food and sat down to eat. I didn’t think the food was all that different. A McDonald’s is a McDonald’s. I might have gotten excited if they had McCrumpets, but no.
Having eaten at a two-star fast food restaurant, we walked back to our four-star hotel. I didn’t say anything to Robin, but when we entered the hotel, her back straightened, and her walk turned into a regal glide. She was where she should be, surrounded by elegance, pomp and circumstance. I’m a grunt. I’m as far from elegant as a man can get. All I cared about was, was my bed comfortable, and was there room service? The answers were yes and yes.
We did nothing else that day. We stayed in the room, and ordered room service for dinner. The only excitement we had was when I ordered an Italian beer, Peroni, with the meal and it don’t arrive with the meal. I called room service, and the guy on the phone said one would be sent up. Kind of like the guy who said our cab would be there in ten minutes. Yeah, my Peroni never showed up. But you know what? We were going home.
Lunch – Check
Rest and relaxation – Check
Room service dinner – Check
Avoid vanilla scent – Check, so far
The next morning we went to the front desk to check out. I mentioned the beer that didn’t make it to our room the night before. The guy at the front desk actually spent some time looking into it, including personally going to the room service office and checking the receipts to verify that I had, indeed, not been given a beer I had ordered. The beer was Ł5, but I figured a four-star hotel would need to know when an employee promised something they didn’t deliver. Turns out I was correct. Robin saw that the Ł5 was reimbursed to our card that day, before the charge for the room had cleared the account. Four-star service for even a small affair. Fair play, Radisson Blu!
The hotel had a shuttle bus to the terminal, so we bundled our bags on board and off we went. We got checked in with the airline, went through the British version of TSA, and made our way toward our gate. Our path took us through the World Duty-Free Heathrow, a wonderful, capitalistic experience that everyone should do, at least once. I would have purchased some more single malt, but we were already at our limit, luggage-wise. Robin did get a laser-etched Cadbury bar. Only a thousand were made, and hers was like #480. It was etched with icons of London, in honor of the King’s Coronation which was happening the following week.
We boarded our flight for Atlanta, an 8-hour experience. Take a 325lbs, 6ft, 1in man and cram him into a seat in a metal tube with a hundred other people for 8 hours. We did have seats with extra leg room, but there were a couple of occasions where I had to get up just to straighten my legs. But you know what? We were heading home.
Check out of hotel – Check
Check in with Virgin Atlantic – Check
Pass through security – Check
Board trans-Atlantic flight home – Check
Avoid vanilla scent – Check, so far
Prior to landing in Atlanta, the passengers on the flight were served a tea. It was actually very good! It was a nice touch by Virgin Atlantic. While not as posh as the High Tea we had at Kensington Palace, it was a fitting way to conclude our trip to England. Finger sandwiches, a scone with clotted cream and jam, and tea.
We arrived in Atlanta. We had to go to baggage claim to get our luggage to take it through customs. Customs meant getting into a long line to speak with a customs agent. I had to constantly overcome the urge to moo like a cow. Fortunately, the line moved quickly, we got to a Customs agent, answered a few questions, gave them a note from Robin’s mother, signed over our first-born, and voilá! We were clear.
Now here is the first time I nearly caused a climate-altering incident for myself. We got off of our flight, which we got on to after clearing security at Heathrow Airport. We got off of the flight inside Hartfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, picked up our luggage to clear Customs, within Atlanta International Airport, so what do you think we had to do next? Go through TSA security to be able to get to our flight to Indianapolis! Sheer, unadulterated bureaucratic stupidity! Some idiot said to themselves, “Somebody might pick up a weapon in Customs and use it to cause mayhem on another flight, so let’s check ’em again!”
As if the dehumanizing process of going back and forth through the friggin’ forever line at customs wasn’t stealing enough of our soul, we had to go through another zig-zag line to put our bags through another check, with minimum-wage employees being irritated with tired, irritated travelers who are should know the little idiosyncrasies that Atlanta International Airport TSA has that are just enough different from other airports as to lead to confusion in the travelers. Somebody please explain to me how this added level of dehumanizing security makes travel safer? But you know what? We were headed home.
Arrive at Atlanta International Airport – Check
Go through Customs – Check
Go through TSA security AGAIN – Check
Avoid vanilla scent – Check, so far
The flight from Atlanta to Indianapolis took no time at all. The flight crew barely had time to pass out snacks and drinks before we landed at Indianapolis International Airport. We collected our luggage, got picked up by our daughter Jessica, who took us back to our home, to the delirious tail-wagging and semi-barks of Rowdy and Yuki, who were totally convinced we were never coming back.
We were home.
Meditations of a Bald, Fat Guy 