“Here we go again.” I thought.
4am last Friday morning and I am up. My nerves are jangling but I greedily swallow my Valium and prepare for my trip back to Ohio USA and my Raven.
My baby rang me to make sure I didn’t oversleep. Fat chance of that. I hardly slept at all. My half dreams were filled by the sound of twisted tortured metal as my plane disintegrates in mid-air due to terrorist bombs, engine fires, pilot errors or even all three. I see wings falling off, engines exploding. Meteorites striking the plane. You name the horror flying scenario, I dreamt it.
But hey-ho. I have to go. Nothing keeps me away from O-hi-o…
And so back to my usual routine. Red hot shower, coffee and croissant to wash down the diazepam and bags ready for my 5:15 taxi. Last hug and kiss for my mum and I’m away. My gaudily decorated luggage which has aroused a few guffaws is loaded into the taxi and I am away into the cold dark early morning.
I am early getting away I know. My flight isn’t till midday but there is no way I’m gonna miss it. This means that not long after dawn I am dropped off at terminal 3 Heathrow Airport with 5 hours to kill.
Time for a puff and a Costa’s coffee but the inconsiderate buggers at Heathrow have moved Costa’s upstairs so first move is to check in the luggage. I am sure I hear a titter from the check in clerk as he espies my gaily be-flowered cases. But he doesn’t seem to notice they are both a little overweight and off they go to Toronto. That’s if they survive the likely conflagration I am still imagining.
Coffee. I need coffee (well in truth I need a stiff gin and tonic) so off to Costa’s I go. Large coffee obtained and outside again for the first of many smokes.
I wander the airport aimlessly between smokes until eventually 10:00 am arrives and I decide to go through to departures. This time I am pleasantly surprised. I retain my shoes and belt as I go through security. Both laptops out though and thank god no beeps as I pass through the metal detector, they even decline to ‘wand’ me. And on to duty free.
Now I do wonder why I bother but I buy 200 fruity dees. Pall Mall which at $4.60 a pack are still more expensive than in the states. But well… it’s traditional isn’t it. Duty free fags. Part of the fun of travel. I don’t bother with booze. It will only be taken off me at Toronto for my next flight. I learnt that lesson on my way back from the Seychelles at Paris CDG in 2008 when some grinning Froggy goon confiscated my litre of Stolichnaya, the bastard.
Anyway. I digress. Fags in hand I make my way to the bar for the second part of my flight medication. Beer and G&T’s.
Ahhhhh. The joys of travel.
……. To be continued.
© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.