I Ain't Getting in No Damn Time Machine ...

4,000 Miles, 15 Hours of Travel, and Not a Hint of Sleep

The long awaited day had finally arrived and we were headed to London for our cousin Lauren's wedding. It's embarrassing that two self-professed history geeks haven't made it across the pond before now, but international travel is weird and scary and expensive and requires much effort; Jay and I do not have a reputation for doing things that smack of effort. But this was different - if we couldn't motivate ourselves to make the journey for such a special occasion then we feared we never would. And so we flipped on our internet searchlights, enlisted the help of a friend who happens to be a travel agent (Second Star Travels ... check 'em out!), and proceeded to set our credit cards on fiyah.

January 5th, 2012

10:30 AM, CST: checked in with friendliest Delta employee we've ever encountered and now have nearly three hours to kill before the flight to Atlanta. US Bank employees were also chronically cheerful but we suspect this is because they took in $300 US and only had to return 180 GBP.

These pounds are heavy but our account is surprisingly light


11AM, CST: table secured at the Budweiser Beers of the World eatery; we decide on second breakfast / early lunch since we are supposed to receive dinner on the flight to London. Imagine our horror when we realize that Boddingtons is an InBev / AB product! Feeling contrary, we order bloody marys rather than beer to accompany our burgers and fries.

Et Tu, Boddingtns?


Take that, British beer not produced or sold by a British brewery!


4PM, EST: a short, uneventful flight finds us in Atlanta with nearly two hours to spare before the next leg of our journey. We hop the train all the way down to terminal E to find our gate and buy some water. Turns out that we are in isolation at a gate completely removed from every other gate in the terminal; Jay has to take a hike just to find a vendor selling bottled water. Later we amuse ourselves by playing a game we made up called "Pick the Brit." The rules are simple: without overhearing a conversation select those passengers on the flight that are of British descent. After ten minutes we realize it's too easy - our fellow passengers who happen to be British are so pale they practically glow in the artificial light. Jay and I declare a draw and decide to refrain from obnoxious stereotyping for at least one hour.

4:30 PM, EST: in between announcements that the flight is overbooked and calls for passengers to check in at the gate, we catch a name: Mr. Baggins. The name is paged again; this time as Mr. Bill Baggins. Jay and I snicker, suspecting that this must be a joke along the lines of our Hugh Jass prank in Vegas. But then the call comes again and he is once more directed to check in at our gate. We speculate that his given name may be William Beauregard Baggins or Bill Beau Baggins and completely crack up. Billbo Baggins does exist!!

5PM, EST: we have boarded along with the other Economy Select passengers and are settled in for the long haul. This upgrade gives us extra leg-room and as much free booze as we can drink, but not much else. Still, it's money well spent considering that Jay is 6 feet tall and I am the most fidgety, squirmy flier known to the airline industry.

Ready for our happy flight!


7PM, EST: enjoying the flight up the eastern seaboard of the United States - there is minimal cloud cover so we can see all the lights twinkling below us and they are lovely. We have never flown over Washington DC, Philadelphia, New York, Boston or any of the other major cities along the East Coast who all think their baseball teams are better than ours. I stick my tongue out at them and throw in a nanner nanner boo boo for good measure. The flight plan has us flying over Canada, past Iceland, and then out over the cold North Atlantic to England - I fervently hope we don't crash because the only thing I hate more than the idea of breaking into hundreds of pieces is the thought of drowning in freezing cold water in the middle of nowhere.

Jay and I joke that the in-flight movies should be Airport, Airport 75, and Airport 79 followed by a healthy dose of Airplane and Airplane II, but we know better. A flight attendant arrives in the midst of this discussion to deliver our "delicious, gourmet meal".

Her words; not mine.

She offered us a choice of chicken or pasta and we are on record right now as stating that they were neither gourmet nor particularly delicious. The free Woodford Reserve Bourbon, however, was quite tasty.

Airline food ... still just as bad as I remembered!


Night, time zone unknown: the first movie, Moneyball, is just wrapping up. Jay and I saw it in the theater, but it's good enough to bear multiple viewings. Watching it reminded me to tell him that Grimace went to see it at the dollar show with a friend a few weeks ago. I had warned her that she probably wouldn't like it because it's very much a baseball movie rather than the comedy she seemed to expect.

"But Brenda, Brad Pitt is in this movie; I'm sure we'll like it just fine."

Three hours later she called me at work to let me know that she and her friend walked out of the movie, which she claimed was even worse than Shakespeare in Love. Not that it matters, but we adored Shakespeare in Love; Grimace remains convinced that Jay and I have awful taste in movies.

Still Night; no idea where we are or what time it really is: waiting somewhat impatiently for the Tylenol PM to kick in so that I can catch a few zzzzzzzs. I asked my doctor for something to help me sleep on this trip and he told me take Benadryl. Are you kidding me? I take that during the day when I have allergy trouble at work and it doesn't even make me yawn.

As the minutes drag by and the second movie starts I find myself becoming irrationally angry with all of the other passengers who have managed to drop off to sleep. I also vow to find a new primary care physician upon our return to Stinktown.

By the time the third movie begins I'm so tired that I have to restrain myself from running up and down the aisles like this:



The only thing that stops me is the realization that I would likely end up in an English holding cell once we touched down, and that would interfere with all of our plans. Still, at this point I would give anything for an hour of sleep. But it doesn't happen ... not even close; I am doomed to airplane and time zone related insomnia.

6AM, GMT: flight attendants are handing out bananas and stinky breakfast sandwiches. The smell of the hot sandwich makes me want to hurl all over the passengers seated in front of us. I opt for the banana only to find it's frozen solid and sporting a beard. Thank goodness we are nearing the airport and we can get the hell out of this cabin, through immigration, and then on to the hotel. Even though everyone has warned against it, there is a nap out there with my name on it and I plan to dive in with the hubba, a couple of pillows, and a down comforter.

7AM, GMT: we land a few minutes early and deplane fairly quickly; prior to landing, all non-GB and non-EU passengers were required to fill out a landing card, which is the equivalent of our US Customs form. I am mildly amused that they want an address where we can be reached during our visit and direct them to hotel concierge because I don't know our hotel's address, I only know which tube line and station exit we need to take in order to get to the hotel. That's probably a pretty stupid way to operate but at this point I don't really care.

We are lucky enough to hit the immigration queue just in time to join a massive group of Asian exchange students, nearly all of whom are hacking, snorking, coughing, sneezing, and in the case of one standing right behind us, gargling his own phlegm. We jokingly comment that we are in the Bird Flu Queue, but when Jay turns up sick the next morning I decide to blame Asia for any problems we encounter for the duration of our visit just on principal.

It takes more than an hour to just to reach an immigration officer and more than once I am on the verge of passing out and / or puking from fatigue. Jay tells me later that I should have just gone ahead and dropped right there in line because we might have made it through the process a little more quickly.

Note to self: practice fainting in a convincing manner for future travel use.

Our immigration officer appears to have a raging cold judging by her bright red nose and the box of tissues on her counter. She asks why we are visiting the country and when we tell her it's because of a wedding she snorts and shakes her head before stamping our passports and waving us through.

WE ARE IN!

Jay collects the luggage and we stroll through British Customs without speaking to anyone; within ten minutes we have purchased round trip tickets on the Gatwick Express to and from Victoria Station and we are on our way to the Millennium Baileys in Kensington ... or so we think.

Smile ... you're in London even if you can't think clearly


9AM, GMT: It's Friday morning, both here in London and at home. The Gatwick Express is a fast, but rather depressing ride through some sad looking industrial areas of London. I notice that no one has screens on their windows and file that away to ask about later. We dump out at Victoria Station which is huge, packed with people, and freezing cold. Don't the British heat their public transportation venues?

No; they do not! They also don't provide elevators in easily accessible areas (if at all) so we dragged our luggage all over the station until we found the right Tube line to get us to our hotel. On a happy note, our Oyster cards worked like a charm and the Tube itself is easy to navigate ... until you hear an announcement that your westbound line has been shut down due to flooding.

Flooding?

Did someone flush a toilet?

Our only option is to drag ourselves and our luggage over to the Eastbound tracks and then switch to a different line and head west from there. Thank Gawd Jason has a mental grip on what we're doing because at this point I'm ready to set up housekeeping in Victoria Station with the pigeons and call it a day.

Luckily the rest of our Tube experience is a smooth one and we make it to the Hotel by 10AM. Within 15 minutes we are checked in and have a room; Heaven, thy name is sleep!

Second Star Travels: http://www.secondstartravels.com/