5th of dec: we arrived...finally!
It has been an adventure. I am writing from our room in a super neat hotel Sherry came across, with a superb Krups cup of coffee in my hand. The hotel used to be a Dominican convent, and it is now a Carlton property...pretty up there! Well, a day later, after the start of the travels, we arrived. ATL, the busiest airport in the world...? (I would have called Chicago, or Heathrow busyiest...) foretold us problems were 'in the air'. When we arrived at the gate in Atlanta, the posting read: FLT 4443 leaves at 1:15 pm. It is now 2:00 pm". I read that and laughed, and told Sherry. She did not understand my humor. I replied that "we were already gone; we were not there", for it was 2 pm and our flt left at 1pm". Silence.
We went to get a bite to eat: the great and healthy 'junior cheeseburger' availed from an ATM look alike machine. The wonders of technology...
Well, our plane did not leave at 2:00, though we started boarding then. It was more like 3:05 - 3:15. The subtle pressure and voice saying "we might lose our connection" started making itself heard. After a real smooth flite in a nice little tube with 2 engines on its side, quiet and siesta-prone, we circled the landing spot for a while, then had to wait on the sidelines at the runway, because a storm was going thru...the ides of December! The pilot was constantly keeping us abreast of what was going on, including the phrase, "and for those on connecting trips, do not worry, for this is affecting also all outbound flights". Though that was an appeaser, something in that small voice inside was telling me..."bs, bs, bs...!". It was dreary outside, gray, wet, snow on the ground, and it was only 4:15 pm. Our flight was to leave at 4:25. It did not.
We ran to our gate. There was our plane. And an older airline employee, Cuban accent and older looking, told us the sad news. The plane had left and we needed to see a travel agent for rebooking. The saga had started.
To make the story short, we had to track our bags. Every one comforted us: "they were fine, They would not leave without us. We could pick them up if we wanted. They would meet us at our destination if we wanted", etc. "bs., bs., bs....!" We rebooked and were told we had a flite for next day, at the same time. We attempted rescuing our luggage, but it would be some time, the attendant said. We could pick them up later in section 5. We made it upstairs to the travel arrangements section - great memories of a life pst, with children on tow, making reservations for Mexico or Puerto Rico, taking a Christmas break from the Windy City and Baxter - and a super nice angel in the reservations counter got us a trip that night to London with connection to Brussels the next day. And very thoroughly, she tracked out luggage, called the 'downstairs' personnel, making sure her directions were understood, and that the pieces were to be rerouted with us. We felt so assured, and comfortable, and taken care of, and glad. Thanked her, and asked her if the book on her bag, plain on site on top of the counter, was Obama's. Her face lit! "I love it", was her reply. I told her we had 2 copies...that's another story. Thanking her we left for a bite. It was around 7 pm, and I was on a fast; I think Sherry was on one too. (Hers are 'faster' than my 'fasts', though.)
We went to get a bite to eat: the great and healthy 'junior cheeseburger' availed from an ATM look alike machine. The wonders of technology...
Well, our plane did not leave at 2:00, though we started boarding then. It was more like 3:05 - 3:15. The subtle pressure and voice saying "we might lose our connection" started making itself heard. After a real smooth flite in a nice little tube with 2 engines on its side, quiet and siesta-prone, we circled the landing spot for a while, then had to wait on the sidelines at the runway, because a storm was going thru...the ides of December! The pilot was constantly keeping us abreast of what was going on, including the phrase, "and for those on connecting trips, do not worry, for this is affecting also all outbound flights". Though that was an appeaser, something in that small voice inside was telling me..."bs, bs, bs...!". It was dreary outside, gray, wet, snow on the ground, and it was only 4:15 pm. Our flight was to leave at 4:25. It did not.
We ran to our gate. There was our plane. And an older airline employee, Cuban accent and older looking, told us the sad news. The plane had left and we needed to see a travel agent for rebooking. The saga had started.
To make the story short, we had to track our bags. Every one comforted us: "they were fine, They would not leave without us. We could pick them up if we wanted. They would meet us at our destination if we wanted", etc. "bs., bs., bs....!" We rebooked and were told we had a flite for next day, at the same time. We attempted rescuing our luggage, but it would be some time, the attendant said. We could pick them up later in section 5. We made it upstairs to the travel arrangements section - great memories of a life pst, with children on tow, making reservations for Mexico or Puerto Rico, taking a Christmas break from the Windy City and Baxter - and a super nice angel in the reservations counter got us a trip that night to London with connection to Brussels the next day. And very thoroughly, she tracked out luggage, called the 'downstairs' personnel, making sure her directions were understood, and that the pieces were to be rerouted with us. We felt so assured, and comfortable, and taken care of, and glad. Thanked her, and asked her if the book on her bag, plain on site on top of the counter, was Obama's. Her face lit! "I love it", was her reply. I told her we had 2 copies...that's another story. Thanking her we left for a bite. It was around 7 pm, and I was on a fast; I think Sherry was on one too. (Hers are 'faster' than my 'fasts', though.)
After an expensive Chili's dinner (airport prices), we boarded our 777 to London. Huge plane! A football field long monster, that took forever to de-ice, and what was usual up till now, left 1 hour late, with lots of apologies from the captain, and much like the same phrases I had heard up till now. (bs., bs., bs...!). I slept like a baby. The plain shook all 'night' long, and my Tylenol PM's were working to specs: I slept profoundly in spite of the overhead spot lamp flashing on my forehead from 2 seats to my left, whose hand held control (modern technology) was not working (of course...bs., bs., bs., ...!).
Heathrow was much more like Lennox than what I could have imagined. Wow! Clean, full of people, positive energy everywhere, super modern, shiny, etc., not the 10 years backward, gray, dark and dreary 'London fog' assumptions of my American acculturation mind. After an excellent cup of coffe - yes, better than my usual Bustelo! - we rushed to meet our British Airways liner: an Airbus 'puddle jumper', that comfortably rushed the last leg of our trip - 1 hour - to our destination: Brussels, finally!
The question was then: will our luggage be there? We did not have much hope, but held the possibility as an expectation that could be probable. (bs., bs., bs...!)
It wasn't. It still isn't. Word is out that Sherry's was found: "the black one" was listed in BA's lost and found website. Neat!
In the background, female voices with this awesome Gregorian chant fill the room sound space. The other sounds coming in are those of the Krups machine ($180 ER's...!), as Sherry is preparing a second cup of coffee. My bathroom sink washed socks and underwear are dry by now. I must get ready for the day's adventure...adventures...? Bruges - here we come!
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