Flying
Just past noon, and we were packed. We just had a bit of tidying up to do, to make the house habitable for Laura, then we could get going. As you can see, we packed light. Both our bags can be held in the palm of a hand.
Steve showed his face at 2:00, and after a bit of last minute tidying and Debbie phoning her mobile phone provider to ask for roaming to be turned on, we were soon on our way and bowling down the M40 towards Heathrow airport. We played Steve "Heroes and Villains" — the Power Puff Girls tribute album — and may have frightened him a little. I had to play the Cornelius track twice, loudly. Debbie says I have adult A.D.D.
The roads around Heathrow were uncharacteristically quiet and so we were in the check-in hall by 3:30, a full 4 hours early for the flight. Steve didn’t hang about — he took a quick photo of us at the dropoff point, then tore off leaving behind nothing but a cloud of tyre rubber smoke.
The seating area in Terminal 4’s check-in area has a certain utilitarian charm. Actually, no, it has no charm. We passed the time drinking coffee, eating crisps, writing on our luggage tags, and planning our time in Boston. During this time, the tannoy announced that a fire had been reported in the building! However, our instructions were to evacuate only if we heard alarms, or were instructed to, and neither of these things happened.
After about half an hour of this, we were able to check in. There was no queue, we were subjected to only the bare minimum of irritating security questions, were congratulated on our light packing, and were on our way in no time. In an interesting deviation from routine, we were both asked to undergo a "low resolution body scan", which involved performing three catalogue poses while standing in front of an expensive looking machine. Apparently we both passed, because they let us through. We must both have great bodies.
We had two hours to spend browsing the departure lounge shops. It’s just like a high street, except they still have Dixons and there are more designer watches, clothes, pens and whiskies on sale. In the duty free shop, if you bought three bottles of Johnny Walker, you got a free bag: always useful to have a shoulder bag that neatly fits three bottles of spirits…
I was a little surprised at the direct nature of the hoarding announcing a forthcoming Agent Provocateur shop:
Debbie bought herself some Scoubidous (plastic string for tying into decorative knots) to play with on the plane, and some sandals so she can vary the locality of rubbing footwear when walking in Boston.
Our plane was a Boeing 777, and I took a photo of it at the terminal, in an effort to affect excitement at flying (when really, I anticipated 8 hours constrained in a small hard chair).
In fact the chair was acceptably comfortable, our neighbour (a Massachusetts resident) was friendly, helpful, polite and tolerant — and didn’t mention the London bombings once. He gave us plenty of tips for our trip, some of which we intend to heed.
We both watched Sahara — a film based on Rich Headworth’s favourite book. I thought the way they blew up a helicopter was very imaginative. Well done. We both started watching Robots. Debbie stayed the course, but I slept through most of it.
The flight went quickly, and immigration was hassle free. The big change this time is that you have to place each index finger in turn on a little scanner, caked with the fingertip grease of countless previous users, and you have to pose in front of a little webcam. Other than that, no change.
Tired, we went straight to the taxi rank, and were taken to the Wyndham Hotel, where we are right now. We’ve noticed little more than a door, a lot of fairly opulent marble and wood, a lift we couldn’t operate without help (you have to do some magic with the room key), and a nice spacious room with comfy beds, HBO, one dressing gown, and broadband Internet at $10.99 a day. I am uploading this on dialup…
Tired now. Goodnight.
July 10th, 2005 at 11:04 pm
Cheer up unsmiling John - you’re on holiday and your house has not burned down. At least Debbie can be relied on to smile
loves ya xx
ps: all ok, Paul came round to help me not be scared of Tivo and my dad wants to buy your house and build a metal mesh car parking platform above your conservatory (?!)