Outward flight
Nice neighbour Steve gave us a lift to the coach stop at Warwick Parkway, and this 10 minute leg, crammed in the back seat with our suitcases (Steve’s boot is filled with junior football paraphernalia) was the most uncomfortable part of the whole day’s traveling.
It was our first time getting the National Express coach to Heathrow, and it was perfectly pleasant. The only downside was a pre-teen who’s mum didn’t tell him that you should use headphones when listening to music on your PSP in public.
I passed the time by dipping into the Lonely Planet British Columbia guide, and playing Space Invaders Extreme on my DS. It’s very good you know.
Heathrow Terminal 5 was very relaxed and stress-free, even before we invoked our first class status. That’s right, peasants, first class. Now I’m slightly sensitive about appearing richer than we are, so I’d like to stress that these first class tickets were paid for entirely by Tesco Clubcard points, and we would have settled for business class or even premium economy if there were any available. However, there weren’t any available on a useful date, so we just had to lord it up.
We did our bag drop like peasants, and joined a “fast track” security queue, which seemed to move slower than the normal queue. The Terminal 5 x-ray process is flawed in a manner than I won’t go into unless prompted.
The lording it up began when we walked around a group of smartly dressed people trying to wheedle their way into the Concorde Lounge, showed our boarding passes, and were allowed in. As the door closed behind us, we heard someone say “How come they were allowed in?”. “They were first class passengers, sir.” was the reply.
I’m going to stop italicising first class now.
Actually, they’d have been better off not wasting their time and heading directly to another lounge. The Concorde Lounge has exclusivity and bragging rights, but it’s not that much to write home about. It’s done out in the manner of a slightly pretentious newly-decorated wine bar (there is a lampshade in the form of a full-size horse), and rather than the buffet format of a business lounge, everything is made to order. Frankly I’m more comfortable helping myself than I am asking for stuff. We ordered burgers, which were OK and no more.
Again at the gate, the fast track queue moved more slowly than the main queue - but once through, our experience switched gear. We were channeled towards a different door, and the attendants were immediately friendly and welcoming without being obsequious. I had been worried about obsequiousness. Of course the seats were tremendously comfortable, and we were treated to drinks before takeoff (”What is there?”, “Well, what would you like?”) then again after takeoff. We were served really good food (Lobster salad for both our starters, then steak for Debbie and lamb shank for me) then allowed to relax.
Debbie watched a film while I listened to podcasts. Then we synchronised, to watch Son of Rambow followed by Be Kind Rewind. Both were very good (Son was the better of the two), and it was nice that there was a video filmmaking theme to link them.
Vancouver airport was surprisingly quiet when we landed, and it didn’t take long before we were in a taxi heading to Ruth and Dave’s. We spotted lots of sushi restaurants (promising!) and lots of Tim Hortons. Ruth came rushing out as we arrived, and we lugged our suitcases up into their nice flat.
After a snack, they took us for a stroll down to Kitsilano Beach Park, just a few blocks away, to admire the sunset, and watch the beautiful people of Vancouver playing hacky sack, frisbee, croquet etc. That and sitting on terraces drinking, of course.
Back in the flat, surprisingly, our hosts tired before we did, and so our first day in Vancouver ended.