The days leading up to this adventure were hectic, but exciting. Our scrambled hours of packing, selling, driving between the Salvation Army and Uhaul, all made for an incredibly weary traveler the fateful Monday I left Texas. It was supposed to be a
leisurely exit, with our flights departing at noon (CST). However, as most of you know, the departure to the airport is rarely leisurely. We were running around the house, grabbing our last things, and made sure to be 30 minutes later than we planned to be. There was a frightening finality to it all, though, which made the departure that much more stressful. I'd never traveled on a one-way ticket before, and the prospect of ending up over the Atlantic without something vital left more than a few butterflies in my stomach. In our usual way, though, Karen and I persevered (with the wonderful help of my mom and dad) to make it to the airport without terrible issue. Just by happenstance (and because we were carrying 10 overweight suitcases) I beckoned a porter to assist with our transfer from the cars (we had to take two cars to accommodate all of our luggage) to the ticket counter. This portly Mexican handily threw our bags onto a cart and scurried them in and around the American Airlines counter. We were fully prepared to pay the extra fee for our extremely heavy bags, but he just threw them onto the conveyor (with proper tags, of course) without weighing them! Needless to say, I gave him a healthy tip as he saved us at least $150!!
Any case, Karen being the “jet-set" gal that she is had already upgraded us to first class via here bazillion American platinum awards. With heavy heart, and after an almost tearful goodbye with my parents, we trodded off with our incredibly over-packed carry-on bags.
Now, as not to make any light of their contribution, my parents (Sharon and "the
Doctor" Don) played no small role in our preparation for this adventure. Along with housing us after the whirl-wind leasing of our condo, they fed us, entertained us and threw us an AMAZING going away party that I'm sure our friends will talking about for many outings to come (kegs on the veraaaanda and poker until 6:30 in the morning). I can not be more sincere when I say that this move could not have been made as smoothly nor as confidently as it was without their support and love. For that, I will be forever grateful. In any case, back to the heavy luggage. We made it to our gate in just enough time to walk down the plank with the rest of the first classers. Worried as I was about my stuffed suit bag, it held well enough in the closet at the head of the business class cabin. Karen and I sat together after trading seats with a huffy (and chubby) middle aged lady begrudgingly gave in to my grin and pleases. Minutes later, the stewardess staff all in a huff, I was summoned to the front of the cabin to tend my busting baggage. Apparently (and henceforth, actually), a handicap lady with wheel chair had decided to take our flight to Chicago and needed space for her chair; along with the front seat in the first cabin. Now, I am all about accommodating those who are physically less fortunate, but this lady was flat rude. I don't know whether she just had a bad day, or whether she was just rich, disaffected, and otherwise hated the world for not being in her situation. Regardless, I had to move my massive suit bag to allow her chair in the closet. I walked it back up the plank with fear that I had already put so many bags beneath the plane that they might just tell me to leave it. After waiting a few long minutes, the wearied attendant came up and checked my bag beneath the plane. I expressed my worry about the excess baggage, but she said that's all we could do, and didn't suggest I pay any extra. Happy as that made me, I was completely concerned with the exchange to Virgin Atlantic in Chicago as she could offer no guarantee that they would be so agreeable. Whatever my concern, the bags were checked through to Heathrow.
The rest of our flight was spent in pleasant conversation over champagne (we explained to the stewardess about our momentous move, and she corked several mini bottles of sparkling for us), warmed nuts (the tasty kind), and an actually palatable meal. It was a wonderful flight.
The terminal in Chicago was busy as usual, I suppose. Karen was soon to catch her connection to Philadelphia (she had to stay on in the States with a visit to her parents in order to run in her dad's 50th marathon and stand in Miss Sara Kos' nuptials the first part of October). I had a stretched 4 hour layover for my flight to Heathrow. We sat down for a tasty vodka soda (just to settle our query over whether Kettle One was really any better than any other in soda with lemon - it isn't...or at least, Smirnoff is very good; and to have a last chat before Karen flew off. In foresight, we didn't think anything of the month we'd spend apart for me to fly to Oxford and Karen to visit her parents. In hindsight, I miss her terribly, and can't wait for her to get here.
Well, I digress. With a long hug and kiss, I squeezed her good bye and walked off to find the dubious Terminal 5. Out through security, back around a long train ride, and back through the VA ticket counter, I was ready to catch my long flight across "the pond."
I just realize now (if you are still reading: cheers!), I have gone on quite long, and probably should break to the next "blog" post. I hope everyone (if anyone) who reads finds my thoughts fun and interesting. I'm sure the days to come will offer some fantastic blogging!
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