It is about a quarter past 6 on Saturday morning. Someone woke me up at 5:00, but as she was all cuddly and soft and purring like she'd never stop, I couldn't really bring myself to mind.
I had forgotten how soft Millie is. Horrible mother! She is such a silky little thing, and, of course, adorable. She is happy to have me home, though she had to snub me a little at first. Put me in my place, you know. But once she came round it was so lovely to cuddle her and hear her purring. My sweet girl.
As I found myself awake, I schlepped on a sweater, slippers and glasses and started snooping around the house (Kathy, I promise this is NOT what I did the first morning at your place!!). I looked in closets, cupboards, drawers, the fridge. I've figured out where the vaccuum cleaner is, the coat closet, etc.
I have to say that Mom and Dad really chose well. It's a gorgeous house, and they've decorated it beautifully.
The sun was just starting to rise at this point so I crept outside to take a look at the neighborhood. I walked up to the end of the street, turned around, and...
WOW.
The view is magnificent. Just a few hundred yards up a small hill from the house, you can see Ludlow Bay, surrounded by craggy mountains and more trees than you can imagine. It was pinky-orangy from the sunrise, and had a misty quality about it. Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.
The sun is definitely coming up now, so maybe I should prod my parents into action. I have a Target trip to do! I know I'll fade fast in the afternoon (way too little sleep in the last 24-48 hours) but right now I'm kinda raring to go. Ahh, jet lag.
Speaking of jets...
Oi! Travel. I love going places, but its the getting there that really stinks sometimes.
Getting to Heathrow was easy. The taxi was there at 8:30 sharp, so Kathy and I couldn't stand around crying too long (probably a good thing!). I cried for about the first 15 minutes of the drive, while the driver spoke to a colleague on speaker-phone. When he hung up, we got chatting and that calmed me considerably.
Only took two hours to get to Heathrow, which is fantastic timing. I was a little bit too early to check in, so I lugged my luggage cart (I'll add here that I had two enormous suitcases, a huge backpack, my carryon, a purse, and a leather coat) to a coffee shop and sat my butt down with a snack and a book. Then I waited about 45 minutes in line at the check-in counters.
I was fully prepared to pay 90 pounds (Oh good heavens, there's no pound symbol on this keyboard!!!) for the third bag, but the woman at the counter said, "Let's weigh the suitcases first." They both came in within the allowed weight (miracle of miracles!!). I was actually shocked, I was sure both were a bit over 70 pounds. The lady had me weigh the backpack, and it was very light. I had my bank card out and ready but she just said, "I'm not going to charge you, it's only a light little thing, hardly worth it."
Woohoo!!
By the time I had checked my bags in, I really needed a ladies'. There's this thing in travelling alone--you can't just pop into the loo and leave your luggage unattended in an airport, can you? You can't ask people to watch it for you, and I'm certainly not going to attempt to cart a loaded luggage trolley that weighs about 500 pounds into the ladies'.
So it was with great relief that I dashed into the loo at this point.
After that I went through security. They asked me what was in my bag as they handed it back. "It's a clarinet." The gal gave one of the guys an "I told you so!!" look, and other than that, they had no problem with me carrying it through security. I breezed right through and got to the important bit:
WH Smith.
I bought a book (the Hobbit) and some magazines for the trip, and then looked around the airport shops for an hour or so. Sat and had a mushroom and emmenthal panini (yummy!) at Costa Coffee and watched the planes being loaded near my terminal.
About 1:30 or so, a 747 pulled into a nearby bay, but I didn't pay it much mind. I would have, however, if I had known it was MY plane, late and empty.
Boarding was supposed to start at 2:00, so at about 10 to I went and stood near the check-in desk so I could be one of the first and not have to wait in line (my carry-on was really heavy with that clarinet). 2:00 came and went. 2:15...Finally, at about 2:25, they called for general boarding--no preboarding, etc. I elbowed my way to the front and got on. That's when I realized the little tunnel was taking us to the late plane.
Still, this did not concern me.
Right, we all get settled in and a crew member informs us on intercom that the plane was late getting to the loading bay because of a "technical glitch."
"But, it's all fixed now."
Right, fine. Planes need maintenance, Five- and six-thousand mile flights are hard on the engines, I suppose. Still, I sat there hoping fervently that the technical glitch was something like a coffee pot not boiling right.
Finally, about 3:05 (take-off time was supposed to be 2:45), we start pushing back. Great! Let's get this show on the road! Only 20 minutes behind, not bad, not bad!
Plane stops. And waits. Waits some more. Finally:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm really sorry, but we seem to have had some kind of mistake with the baggage loading...I'm not quite sure, but they've either put a crate on that was supposed to be for another flight, or the weight isn't distributed properly. That's all we know. Anyway, we have to pull back in to check it out, then we'll have the tower clear us for take-off again, and be on our way."
At this point I'm thinking, "Oh boy, Mom and Dad are going to have a hell of a wait at SeaTac."
Of course, I am not one to complain about the airline in this situation. If baggage weight is not distributed just so, a plane will crash instead of landing. Landing any airplane (but especially an enormous 747) is not like parking a car--it's a science of angles, lift, wind, and weight ratios. You have to hit the runway just so...which anyone who's ever made a paper airplane can see.
I'm a retired Air Force Brat. I respect these things!
It didn't take more than a half hour, so we finally got on our way and took off at about 4:00--an hour and 15 minutes behind schedule. I admit to being a bit worried during take-off, thinking of weight distribution and technical glitches and that stupid year 9 who, just a couple of weeks ago said, "Good riddance Miss, I hope your plane crashes when you go home!!" All because of one stupid detention... Anyway, I'm not superstitious but that was nerve-wracking.
And it didn't help that I started crying as we took off. I cried for about 10 or 15 minutes, then started making a list of things to look forward to (Mom and Dad, Millie, NASCAR, Target, Cheesy poofs, discovering the Puget Sound area, etc.). Calmed down, settled in.
The flight was, well, typical. Long, cramped, boring as hell. Not as much turbulance as at Christmas time. I read, had a small catnap, ate and sat staring at the map, willing the little plane icon to be even closer to Seattle. I like flying, but 9 hours is just way too much of a good thing.
We finally landed at 5:15, an hour after our scheduled arrival time. I figured that Mom and Dad would figure out that the flight had been delayed, wouldn't worry, and would buy a newspaper and some coffee and settle in for the weight. Which is, indeed, what happened.
Of course, coming back into the US is always exciting. For those of you who haven't travelled internationally (or haven't since 9/11), it's all about having 62 different people stare at you, ask if you've brought any plants or livestock back ("Oh, crap, I forgot Bessie! Hold on a minute..."), stamp your customs card, ask why you're here ("I'm American!!! I swear!!") and give you suspicious looks when you tell them that this particular visit to the UK was for a year.
"And what were you doing there?"
"Teaching. Entry visa, page 10 of my passport."
I've gotten good at this.
Anyway, I always get through immigration quickly enough. Yesterday was no exception. I found my bags fairly quickly, sweated and grunted and got them onto a trolley and thought, "Great, walk through that gate up there at Customs, and Mom and Dad'll be there waiting with open arms." I could just feel them hugging me, and I was so delighted.
Of course, these very two, the ones who nurtured and protected me for all those years of my childhood, failed to mention one teensy important detail about going through the international terminal at SeaTac.
You waltz through customs, and then they take your bags!! They put them on a conveyor belt and shove you on a train, with no idea where you're getting off!!
Luckily I was able to ask a nice couple, and they showed me. I got off the train, took an escalator, then...Oh, great, where do my bags come back out?!?!
It took a couple of minutes, but I found out I had to walk to carousel 1 (I was at 5 or 6) and there they'd be. And there, too, were Mom and Dad, with a "Welcome Princess Foo Foo!!" sign and open arms.
We had to wait an hour for a ferry (they get pretty crowded) but it was fine, as we sat and chatted and I showed them pictures, etc. We stopped for Mexican food (Glory, glory, hallelujah!!) on the way home, and finally reached the house at about 10:00. Which, my friends, is 6:00 in England. Exactly 24 hours since I'd got up at Kathy's house.
I looked around the place, flirted with Millie, dug into my bags to find my shampoo and toothbrush, had a long, life-saving shower, and hit the sack. Millie came in and cuddled and purred. I slept like a log until afore-mentioned furball woke me up.
Still, really can't bring myself to mind. ; )
So I'm home. It's still a bit surreal, but nice. As Hugh Grant said to Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.
Right. Target opens in an hour-and-a-half (it's taken that long to write this while perusing other web sites in another window!!). Think I'll go wake up Sleepy 1 and Sleepy 2 and get this show on the road, before I need a nap.
Thanks to the welcome home messages and all the thoughts.
Cheers,
Meg
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