| I wasted as much time as I could in the hotel but finally had to head to Heathrow. I counted £20 in change to exchange at the front desk for bills ("unchange" in the Urban Dictionary - accepted for publication last night.) Desk clerk just applied it to my bill. Brilliant.
Taxi ride was five minutes, eight pounds and worth it. Driver refused my tattered £20 note that has been in my wallet for ten years or so. He told me to change it at the bank.
Managed to hit a lull at all the lines at the airport which is a bit miraculous. I would rather have the miracle of an upgrade, but there's still time. Was one pound something over in suitcase weight (damn you, extra PC and topcoat) but was let off with a warning. New security question: "Have you had a laptop or any electronics repaired while you were here?" Is there a master list of repair shops likely to put bombs in broken electronics? If you have a receipt from "All honors to Allah" Electronics Repair, do they confiscate your laptop?
Made it through boarding pass checkpoint and prepared for the X-Ray walk of potential exposure. Security did not make me remove my belt (whew!) or shoes. Sailed through. Passport Control found the stamp from Sunday and decided to let me leave. Next was shoe security - your shoes are scanned while you walk by with your carry-ons. I wonder if the Shoe Bomber is pleased with all the stupid security procedures he caused.
Considered a day pass to the Admirals Club since I had two hours to kill but decided I couldn't drink or steal enough bitter lemon to make it worthwhile.
There is a Krispy Kreme in the terminal. My head almost exploded.
Decided to get lunch at the fake Irish pub. Cappuccino was very good. Ham and cheese sandwich was a panini, like yesterday, but an Irish panini rather than British. Chips were really good, but The Chequers chips are still the best. When you want it done right, go to the pub. Eight pounds, which was not bad for airport food. It all seemed cheaper this trip.
Decision point: More cappuccino? I could see how high my heart rate would go. Last pint? Alcohol before a flight, yadda yadda yadda. Go to Harrods? Wandered through on the way to the pub, nothing jumped out at me except really high points food. So it goes. I guess I should buy duty-free booze on principle. I may try to find a book. I may even go to Krispy Kreme. Who am I kidding? One last pint, it is.
The barmaid just winked at me when I approached the bar. Now, that's what I expect in a pub. Maybe she should give "Ashwin" customer service lessons. Maybe the Irish are just more friendly.
Gave her the ancient £20 note for a pint of Guinness. She accepted it happily and gave me an ever more tattered £5 in change. She then asked for it back and gave me a newer one. I need to start mystery shopping pubs. It's where customer service excels.
Forty-five minutes or so until gate assignment. Time to wander, although I will miss the barmaid of the year.
Forty minutes and £70 cash. If I had ovaries, this wouldn't even be a challenge.
Harrods knick-knacks purchased. Decided against trying to find toast to sample marmalade. Would probably be overkill to spread marmalade on a Krispy Kreme.
Waiting for a gate assignment - an interesting concept. You can't just get to the airport early and crash at the gate because they don't tell you which gate it is until an hour or so before takeoff. It's the gate where the plane from DFW landed this morning.
Gate is now "Please wait" which is a bit ominous. The plane should be here - it arrived this morning as the matching flight inbound.
Switching back to Dallas time on PDA. It's now 7am. Suddenly sleepy.
Gate 36. Time to go.
Find sign for gates 23-50. Staring down hallway to infinity. Sudden flashback to long walk in from gate on Sunday. Starting to regret heavier purchases.
Old fart reunion in front of me. Old guy describing plane seating layout and facilities, then realized he was remembering a Continental 777 and we're on an American 767. Thanks for the loud, booming lesson anyway, plane expert. Beginning to think this is an AARP package tour flight. I may need to put the iPod on in self-defense. Blue hairs now discussing coffee drinks. Apparently, cappuccino is bad.
Next year, this could be me. Cyanide, anyone?
Older guy is getting frisked by security. Hopefully, not a Viagra commercial.
Kids and grandkids inventory discussion commences. Where is the plane expert when you need him?
Holy crap, this is a small seat. It feels like an MD-80 seat from the "pack 'em in" era. On the bright side, there isn't much of a view, although I can see business class. If you ever meet someone from the IBM internal finance team, kill him. As usual, I think I got the upgrade on the wrong leg of the trip.
Managed to use the toilet while the AARP brigade was still tramping onboard. That will save one trip climbing over whomever is next to me.
Seatmate seems reasonable and about twenty-five years below the average age in the gate area. This is a blessing. Younger guys don't talk about their grandkids. Break out the iPods and let's get out of here.
I miss the 777 that brought me over. This plane blows chunks.
Powering down for takeoff. The next time we land, I can turn the phone on again.
8:52am Dallas time - takeoff, twenty-two minutes late. After initial climb completed, flight attendants played security video. Oops.
A brief prayer of thanks - just prior to taxi, a flight attendant told me seatmate there were open seats. He left and never came back. Now, I have room to spread out. Thank you, Lord. It's not business class, but I will gladly accept it.
Crew is very chatty, but only among themselves. Wondering how much we will see them in the next nine hours.
My next steps will be in America. My phone will work and some people will speak with a drawl. Plus, it's the start of the weekend.
Stroganoff or tortellini? Gas chamber or firing squad?
Delta gives you one free drink with dinner. American, notsomuch.
The stroganoff was not bad. Even if it had been, it wasn't that much. On the plus side, the sauce blended well into my shirt.
You know you have left Europe when asking for coffee just instantly gets you a cup of brown liquid instead of "Cappuccino? Espresso?"
Idly wondering (again) what would happen if I started singing along with my iPod. As Oasis is playing rather currently, given my fellow passengers' probably loud protests. Maybe if I had champagne music instead of Champagne Supernova. I always thought an interesting music video premise would be some poor bastard in coach starting to sing a song, randomly people join in, and then they find the band is in First Class, with their instruments. Just a thought. ("Don't Look Back In Anger" is playing, and that's a bizarre but guaranteed audience participation song for Oasi , so I just had a vision of someone in the back of the plane starting with the chorus, only to have Noel Gallagher wander back with his drink to pick up at the start of the verse. Of course, the flight attendants would probably just chase him back to his ticketed cabin.)
Wouldn't it be interesting if your iPod could tell you if anyone else on the plane was listening to the same music? You could find a kindred spirit.
Dear Noel Gallagher - What is a freakin' Wonderwall, anyway?
Seven and a half hours (or therabouts) to go. It may be time for some sleep, although I am a bit afraid of what I may dream.
Not even Oasis can drown out the toilet flushing right behind your seat.
Listened to Bob Newhart, Jay Mohr and Gordon Ramsety read their books; so not much sleep.
Turning off electronics. I'm home.
INS needs more people – six lines for 280+ people coming in is not enough. Luggage was actually coming off the carousel as we arrived from passport control. Limo driver was actually in the lobby with a sign.
Half-hour down LBJ and Central, and I'm home.
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