Arrive'!



We had only a few minutes to wait at the gate. Mom, of course had to run to the restroom. So, there I was waiting with the luggage as we're boarding. First class goes in. Special needs people go in. Here is me at the gate like a gate louse with luggage. Business class goes in... economy is called... and here, finally, here she comes barreling her way through the line to catch up to me.

We show the attendant our tickets and identification and make our way down the gangway.

I got the window seat so mom could have easy access to the lavs. This time we chose to sit on the right side of the plane. I think I've fallen in love with the right side of the plane. It's the right side of the plane that was so glorious when I had a bum ankle and a free row. And this time? Ah yes... blissful silence. Narry a screaming brat to be heard, endured or smelled. 

The flight attendant came around and offered juice, water or sparkling wine. Seriously? Need you ask? I sucked that down so fast. It went nicely with the wine spritzers I'd had in the lounge after my Baily's martini. Momster enjoyed hers too.

 Admittedly, I was a little tipsy when I took the photo of the menu. And if one were to be honest, I can't even remember what it was I ate. But I can try to figure it out.



I believe this was the eggplant entre. I do love a good eggplant. I have to mention that I did NOT consume the bottle of wine. Nor did mom consume hers. This will be important later on, so keep that in mind.
Mom had the beef and potato thing. I believe you're seeing the remnants of a rum and diet coke there as well. Note the bottle of wine sitting there in all of its
innocence.


After the food service and if I can still remember through the fog, an after dinner aperitif, I took a small nibble off a sleeping pill and fell asleep for a while. During this blissful (as mom would put it) 'better living through chemistry' event, I have no idea what Haggi did.

Hours and hours later as we were going beginning our initial descent, breakfast was served!



 Full English Breakfast (meatless) with some kind of juice and a blueberry muffin.

Mom got the Bacon and Eggs with potatoes. If memory serves, I ate all the eggs and veggies  and mom got the rest. I think the muffins were tucked in a pocket and saved for later.

We deplaned - what a stupid word- and headed through customs. "Why are you here? What are you going to do" Blah, blah blah. Neither of us mentioned that we may take a trek elsewhere whilst visiting the UK, but that's for another post. They let us through and we went merrily on our way. To another restroom.

After the pit stop, since I had found out how to get around without paying exorbitant fees to the Heathrow Express or a taxi, we went to the tube.

Our next stop was our favorite hotel in Bloomsbury, so we only had one train to take. The Piccadilly line. It was still early when we checked in and our room wasn't finished being cleaned. Our luck held out... UPGRADE!  We were treated to a nicer room with a fridge.
Free high speed internet, sparkling and still water and a giant Kit Kat.
Mom was in hog's heaven. It really was a great room. A Holiday Inn room, so it was great for that, but a great room whatever the case.






After a nice nap, we decided to hit up the local shops and get the goods we couldn't bring with us. In my case this was decaffeinated tea, for mom it was some kind of gummy bears and diet coke. Since we had a fridge, it was convenient.

This being the day before Thanksgiving. It was cold. Yes, It was cold. 

Knowing the area, we had dinner at our place. Our favorite place. Yep you guessed it.



Being predictable as ever, here is our dinner:
I got the eggplant and goat cheese burger (much to momster's chagrin). And mom got the burger, burger. We shared some fries.

 After the din din, we hobbled back to the hotel room to make use of the high speed internet so mom could call the doggies via Skype.
Dad chased Agatha around with the camera, she was not amused. Beatrix and Camellia were more than happy to say hello.

Not off to a bad start. But alas... the trip is young.



Time to go!







Planning, planning, planning... reservations, reservations, blah, blah, blah... I'll spare you the boring part and get to the goods.


Before I agreed to this trek, I had a 10 Commandments of Travel created:


1) Thou Shalt Not Get Sick on the Voyage.
2) Thou Shalt Not Get Injured on the Voyage.
3) Thou Shalt Not Pester your traveling partner on Voyage.
4) Thou Shalt Not Annoy your traveling partner on Voyage.
5)...

You get the point.
These were agreed to with a "Yeah, right."

You'll see how well that worked...




Tuesday before Thanksgiving, arrives on a morning flight. We spent that day getting haircuts and what not. That evening, mom gets an email from her credit card company that a charge has been placed from Amazon Marketplace on her credit card.

Okay, I get it. You get a weird charge, you want to find out what it was. Hours on the phone. HOURS! My mom wanted the company to delete that charge - since it was obviously fraudulent - but NOT to cancel her card. It was the card all of her reservations and hold fees were on for the trip. This caused a really, REALLY, nasty problem. Also, this can't be done. It is the policy of all credit cards that one fraudulent charge shows up, the card is cancelled and a new one is dispatched. Kinda hard when one is going to be up in the air the next day. After a ton and a half of torment, the charge was forgotten in hopes that nothing bad would happen until we get back. Let's just say this review was a considerable TONED DOWN version of what actually transpired.

That night passed very uneasily, but at least we made sure the Skype was working and mom got to see her dogs.

 In the morning, final preparations were made, final items packed, kisses given to beasties, and we were shuttled off to the airport.


Now, I don't care what anyone says. When I write my book on 'How to travel with Seniors without committing Murder' (or something like that), my first rule now and forever will be:
SPEND THE MONEY ON A LOUNGE!

As mentioned in a previous post, the buy-in lounge we went to on a past voyage was closed. Knowing this and desperate to avoid having to spend any amount of time in the Ebola infested airport gates, I looked into Priority Pass.


 In a nutshell, you pay a yearly fee (they offer discounts from time to time), and you pay a discounted rate when you get to the lounge itself. Since I knew this was only way to get into a lounge in Terminal 2 of LAX, I gladly shelled out the moola for the privilege.

So, there we were. The Maple Leaf Lounge in Terminal 2 of LAX. 

 NOT LAX's Air Canada Lounge, but you get the point.



 The bar in the lounge.
Nice cold sodas, open bottles of spirits, hot tea and a coffee machine.


A nice salad and soup bar with chips and other interesting things.




Our beverage selection. Mom: Rum and Diet Sprite. Me: Baily's and Ice.


Me: Italian wedding soup (which mom thought looked horrendous) with veggies and humous.


Mom: Cheese and bread.

I had planned to complete my test for my online class in the lounge. After all they promised wi-fi. Of course this didn't actually work. I failed miserably. I don't know what I was thinking to try to complete an online course whilst traveling. Note to self- this does not work.

A couple of hours later, we were ready to brave the germs and head down to the gate.

"Awwww."
"What?"  
"I forgot to get a glass from the place like I did last time."
Sigh....

Yes, yes I did. I went back inside, acted like I was looking for my mom's cell phone and pilfered a glass.

 
I'll end here for the moment.

Planning is the Funnest Part?



What to do? What to do?

As I've mentioned previously, every idea I'd had was nixed before it began. Except (thankfully) tea at Fortnum and Masons. That was non-negotiable.

Shows? Nope!
Spas? Nope!
What then????

"Do you want to go to Brugge?"  "Brugge? You know we'll be going in late November and December, right?"                                    "So what?"                                                  "So it's going to be COLD!"                       "So what? I got a new coat. One like yours. The spy one. Hope you don't mind being twins."

In case you forgot, the spy coat is this:
 Granted, not the most flattering nor warmest of jackets, but it has a ton of pockets and it's great for traveling.

So, Brugge it was to be. Along with a couple of other excursions to be visited in future posts. 

I put in for the time off, and it got approved. We were set. 

"I have to change the flights. It's not working out."
"Okay."
"So... we'll leave on the 26th and come back on the 9th instead of 7th, okay?"
"Works for me, I gues."

Famous last words on my part.

To be continued...

 
 

Gearing Up


GEARING UP


Disclaimer:  I sincerely apologize for the lack of action on this blog. After the previous post, I received a call that started like this:  "While your telling everyone how horrible I am, make sure that you let every know that you...."  And yes, I will expound on this particular incident in future posts.
     I was so riddled with guilt after this call that I had to sit back and consider my options. Matricide is impossible from two thousand miles away, and while I am tech savvy, I'm not a hacker and don't know my mother's seven thousand ip addresses to block her; so I resigned to just stop.  If there was ever a question of parents inhibiting their children's creativity... YES,. YES THEY DO!
     But, I digress...



"My Nexus 9 hasn't even shipped yet! Can you send your 7 just in case it doesn't get here?"

"You know we had this conversation a month ago, right?"

"So what?"

So yes, I spent that day resetting and updating my old 7. I also took the liberty of creating a new Skype account for the olds, but knowing that the 9 will arrive - and probably before the 7 gets there -  added my second Skype account on my old 7 and holding the new Skype account in abeyance for the 9. Did you get all that?

I was also kind enough to add apps that I thought they would like. Such as Kindle, various newspapers and mind exercizing games. A girl can dream, right?


Not an hour after I had packed up the 7 with case and charger, taped it all up and addressed it, I received this email:

Even though I received this from Amazon,
Your new estimated delivery date is:Wednesday, November 12, 2014 - Saturday, November 15, 2014 ,
please send your nexus 7 tomorrow as planned.  

We already know skype works on it, and dads and I could practice.  If we have good luck getting the
9 ready, I'll bring the 7 with me.

Thanks!  Love, MAW
This was no surprise really. So, off the 7 went, USPS priority mail. Woot!

Two days later, I get a call:

"Guess what I got today?"
"What would that be?"
"I got a Nexus 7 AND a Nexus 9!" 
At that point, I think my eyerolls became audible.

"Okay, well the 7 is set up and ready to go, open up the 9 and I'll walk you through the set up process..."

Have you ever asked your dog to read your dissertation?
Just kidding! Mom is not stupid, so going through the set up process was as painless as it could be.  Until...


Things were going great. Dads was getting the hang of Skype and actually learned how to use the camera. All was looking up!

"I want to put the pictures from my phone on the Nexus 7."

In theory, this shouldn't be a problem. No, no problem at all. Mom's phone and both the 7 and 9 are android devices. Upload them to Drive, share them on Google+ or hell, just email the bitches, right?

Oh yes, we did all of this. Hours. HOURS I tell you was I on Skype (hey!) with Mom trying to figure out a way to do this. Nothing worked. Absolutely nothing. I couldn't figure it out. I was going crazy! After 4 hours, I finally had to put the kibosh on the project and head for work.

The next day I get a call. "The pictures finally showed up."
"What? How? What happened?" I just had to know. I didn't think I was that incompetent. What could possibly have transpired that mom was able to figure out how to share her frazzling photos that I couldn't? What could it possibly be????

"I didn't have the wi-fi turned on on the phone."



I'll stop here. If I don't get a nasty phone call or email, I will continue...






As Time Ticks On... Like a BOMB!


The months following the previous conversation were spent nailing down dates, or trying to. 




How the hell am I supposed to prepare for this? 

First off...

SPEECH THERAPY!!!

What? You ask. Yeah, no kidding. I tend to hold my stress in my jaws. This is a really bad thing. Especially in my profession. I was clenching so very hard that the muscles in my jaws locked and I started pronouncing my words wrong. I was having a hard time being understood. I'm not blaming the last transcontinental trek on this phenomenon, I'm just saying...

Anyway, 500 smackers. hours of therapy and daily exercises later, I can speak properly again and all is right with the world. My voice world anyway. For now.

Next up: What to do with all the time we'll be there?

I'm a subscriber to various mailing lists. Who isn't? One of my favorites is a site called Living Social. Ever hear of it? If you haven't, it's a site that posts promotions that businesses use to get customers in the door. More often than not, the deals are really worth it. You'll experience a taste of what the establishment has to offer with half the cost. Not that I'm trying to push this particular company, but I have used the services on occasion and have been satisfied. Also, it's world wide. 

From time to time, I'd scan the UK offerings and send links to the most interesting deals to Haggi. 

Things like: 2 for 1 cream teas with champagne, dinner and shows and spa packages. Each of these emails was met with an 'I'll take a look at it' response. If you've ever been a kid, you know what that means.

Okay, fine. Momster isn't interested in discount meals or experiences. I get it.

So what is she interested in? 

Before this idea came up, my mom and dad adopted a new puppy. (I'll post that fluster cluck one of these days, but I digress...)
Meet Beatrix Potter. Yup, she's adorable. We're dog people. And when we're away, we like to see our babies via SKYPE. 

For my birthday, I had asked for the new version of the Nexus 7. Okay, so it wasn't new, it was a year old - 2013 version, but I had the 2012 version and was hoping for an upgrade. I offered my old 7 to my mom so she could SKYPE with the babies.


2012 Nexus 7



 'I don't want it. I'm getting the Nexus 9, and it's going to be better than yours.'

No kidding. That's a quote. Also not true, The Nexus 9 isn't better than the 7. Only bigger. Both have the capability of Lollipop... I'll stop there. Truth be told, I did consider the 9. I found it would be too big for travel and at the time of this posting, still lacks a usable keyboard. So the 7 it was for me. I have two now since the Hag turned her nose up at my generous offer. 


2013 Nexus 7


Nexus 9








I'll stop here for now, while you're hanging on the edge of your seat. Don't worry, this gets more interesting as time goes on.

Egrets, I've had a few...





Have you ever done one of those things that you knew you would regret later? I don't mean eating a creme puff that you know will show up on your ass the next day, or drinking an adult beverage that will exact its revenge in the morning. I mean one of those things that wake you up in a panic? Something to rival the PTSD of soldiers world wide?  

I have...



But maybe I should start at the beginning.

Several months ago it was a regular day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and all seemed right with the world. (Yeah, yeah I know... totally cliche'. Work with me here.)

The phone rings.
Me:  Hello?

LOOOORRRREEEENNNNN...  It was the croak of Momster. Nothing unusual for the most part.

Momster:  I've been thinking...


Oh God! Don't think! Please don't do that...

Momster:  I'm kinda feeling the need.

Don't... don't....

Momster:  I want to go back. I feel like I missed out on a lot last time.

RUN! WTF is wrong with you? RUN NOW!!!!!  

Me: Are you sure?

Momster: Yes. When do you want to go?

Don't do it! Remember last time? It was a disaster! RUN!!!!

Me: Um... 

What the hell are you doing? Stop encouraging this!!!

Me:  Are you sure you're sure you want to do that?

Momster: Why not?

Let me count the ways...

Momster: But later than we went last time, it was too hot.

Too hot. "TOO HOT", SHE SAYS. What the hell are you doing?
     She's my mother, it's not like I can say no.
Yes. Yes, you can. I's easy. It goes like this:  nnnnnnoooooo.....
     I can't! She spent decades mastering the mother-guilt syndrome manipulation triggers. I'm impervious to it. It's my Kryptonite!


Momster: So why don't you look around for a class or something you can take later in the year okay?

Don't do it. I'm warning you... don't do....

Me:  Uh... okay, I guess.

What. Have. You. Done?
     I'm not quite sure.....





So yeah... it's like that.

Homeward Bound!




Once again, I awake to having to leave England. I was rather sad to be honest. And not just because I was leaving too early to get my doggone full English breakfast.

I had to be at the tube by 7 to be at the airport by 8. Ah well. 

I crept out of The Penn Club, putting my key behind the 'Closed' sign on the reception desk. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to deal with the Harpie. Still annoyed that I paid a good deal for a full brekki and won't get it.

There was no rain to enjoy as I walked the short way to the Russell Square tube line. Just a quiet Sunday morning. I was hoping to hear church bells in the distance, but I suppose it was a bit too early for that as well.

I got down into the tube station and was greeted with a surreal site:

The station was eerily empty. 
It was a little creepy in a way, but I thought it made an interesting visual.

 I sat and waited for the next train totally expecting it to be void of any other human inhabitants.  I couldn't have been more wrong.



About five seconds after the photo was taken, HORDES of people piled into the station. 
Hordes of people. HORDES!


The next train arrived and it was packed to the gills. Who the hell travels around London at 7 am on a Sunday? Answer: EVERYONE! Wow! What the hell was going on? It was so annoying.

Whatever the case, I took my roller bag and my lazy butt into the train. There were no seats so I posted myself up against the wall and had a seat on my hard case. (One of the few advantages to having a nice hard case I suppose. I don't think my big soft one would hold my weight.) 
Eventually I made it Heathrow.
Guess I know where everyone was going.


There was a line to check into my flight. I don't usually pay attention to mergers and whatnot, but I have since found out that VA has merged with Delta. GAG!!!! Maybe that's what was up. I don't know. I didn't want that doggone early flight, but I was using points, so I had to take what I got. BLAH!

I finally got through check in and security with, thankfully, an aisle seat in the extra legroom section. At least there's that.

This time, I tried the cheapest of the buy-in lounges at Heathrow. This one is called Servicair Executive Lounge.

It wasn't bad. It was cheap - about 30 bucks, so it was more like a United Lounge states side. At this time in the morning there was no hot meal option. I later found out that the hot meals are put out around 11. In this case it was to be soup. 


It didn't matter. They had liquor, (for me, wine) and coffee or tea and muesli. I'm good to go.


My first serving. After this I had more wine. Then more. DON'T JUDGE ME!



Liquor Bar





A couple of hours later, I trudged through the economy 'scum' line to get on the plane.

I know, I know... You already know what I'm going to say. And yet, I must.

YES, there were screaming children on this plane. About 5 feet from me.

Now hang on a second. It has come to my attention that some people in this day and age think that it's ridiculous to complain about 'a kid being a kid', and 'kids will just do what they want.'  This has caused such angst and annoyance in me that I will defend my position. Pardon me whilst I retrieve my soapbox.
Retrieved.

I have, and will continue to maintain that in spite of all of the God given talent in certain facets, I am still a person. A person, person. A human person. Nothing different. Nothing 'special'. I was one of these toddlers on a plane. Did I squawk and screech and, yes BARK in the face of other passengers? No! Did I scream for no reason? No! Did I run down the aisle of the plane bapping every armrest on the way? NO! 

Why didn't I do these things? Because my MOTHER, a.k.a. Edie Baby, a.k.a. Momster, a.k.a. The Hag, would purse her lips and squish up her face, give me 'the look' and threaten to pinch or inflict some other type of bodily harm upon my person. Did she do it? No. Why? Because I sat the hell down and behaved. Again, why? BECAUSE I FEAR THE WRATH OF EDIE!

So if your kid barks in my face, it's your fault! You are the one who should be stabbed repeatedly in the throat, hung upside down, bled dry and your lifeless body fed to feral pigs! You are the one who should be eviscerated with a butter knife. YOU are the one who should have your teeth drilled down to the nerve. YOU!

And if your kid has some medical issue and can't relax and for some ungodly reason you don't want to treat this through chemistry, there are herbal alternatives. Melatonin, Valerian Root and in some cases Belladonna. LOOK IT UP!  And for @#$%^! sake, DISCIPLINE YOUR KIDS! And get off my lawn!

But I digress...

I will skip over the part where I'm sitting next to an old Russian couple which ended up being a nightmare because for some reason they thought I'd be a wonderful interpreter. I'll pass over that, and give you this:

These two girls were sitting in front of me. I've seen a lot of things on a plane, but never this. Gotta give them props for not 'frontin'.'


I'm not sure if it's because of the merger with above listed domestic hot mess, but it felt like years and years and years before we got served 'dinner'. I even had to dig in my bag and get out one of my emergency bars. Granted, I may have been feeling the cheap wine hit my stomach, but whatever. Then about a year and a half after that, after trying to mimic 'chicken' and 'mooo' for the Russians next to me, I got my dinner. I think it was lasagna. And 10 pasta shells with ranch dressing on it. Nothing like something nutritious! 

The Russians both got the chicken.


And hours and hours and hours, child screaming hours later, I was offered a vegetarian or pepperoni thingy. I chose veggie. I got pepperoni. Pretty much par for the course as far as things are going during this flight.


And then an hour or so before we landed, tea time. Egg salad finger sandwiches and coffee. Mmmm... not really. I pretty much dumped the whole doggone thing.


We did indeed land safely. And again, LAX and VA evidently were at odds as it took about an hour and half to get the luggage. However I was entertained by the Border Patrol going after the couple with the barking kid for smuggling fruit into the US. The fruit sniffing doggy came around about three times while I was waiting for my one whole bag. I guess if you check in early on a point ticket your bag gets stuffed into the remote nether regions of the bowels of the plane. That image made me laugh as I pulled the germ jelly out of my bag and liberally squirted myself and said bag.

They say you get what you pay for. I'm not certain that is always the case, but in this instance... I may have gotten what I deserved.Will it cause me to run away and swear off airline travel for the rest of eternity? No. It just sucked. It happens. 


I passed through immigration without much ado. My ride showed up and I rode all the way home. When I got there, this was waiting for me:

And all was right with the world.