I love it when a plan comes together
Sep/26/05 13:56
It started out
according to plan. The package was ready at 7:54
(according to their online tracking system). Cliff
ditched his car, zipped down to NYC… and our
cell phone gave up the ghost. Since I hadn’t
heard from him, I assumed we were a go and packed our
bags. He went to the consulate and got in line, in
time that we just might, though probably wouldn't, it
seemed, get the visa in time to make it all
work… only to have them announce that their
computers were down and it would be an hour’s
delay to process anyone. He called his mom’s
cell phone and left a message to cancel our flight.
Meanwhile, in DC, I was still packing and Cliff’s mom arrived to take us to the airport. She had forgotten her cell phone and borrowed one from a student. (Thanks, student!) So we never got the call to cancel our flight. We loaded up the car. Cliff called from the consulate to check in, and when I said we hadn’t cancelled, asked us to find out just how late we could be in getting on the plane. They told us if we got there by 2, they would get us on the plane. Cliff could make it on the 1:00 shuttle from LaGuardia, which was due to arrive at 2:04; maybe they would bend a bit and let us go. We all headed to the airport, grabbed a skycap, Sam (thanks, Sam!), and set up camp in the airport. Meanwhile, the best news all day greeted us: our flight was delayed at least a half-hour. Cliff managed to get on the shuttle; they made good time, landed early… and spent 20 minutes on the runway because there were no available gates. He finally got off the plane at 2:00, ran across the airport to meet us, and we checked in successfully. Yeah, us!
Now the funny (well, it’s funny now) part here is that it had rained the entire day in Boston, and all of American’s flights were backed up for miles because of it. Our flight got later and later, and by the time we took off at 7:00 we had missed our 7:00 connection, and ended up nearly running through JFK to the international terminal to catch the 9:30, which involved scurrying around the airport like rats looking for cheese, because there were no actual signs indicating the way to the international terminal, and the route to get there involved nearly leaving the airport entirely, passing the baggage pickup, and ended up funneling the passengers into two lines against a wall with no chairs or tables, asking us to juggle all of our luggage while removing our laptops from our bags and taking off shoes. Thanks, JFK—not. Of course, the 9:30 to Heathrow had by this time also been delayed, and sat on the runway until an 11:00 actual takeoff. Then, when we landed in Heathrow in the morning, the gates were (again) completely full and we had another hour to wait as they shuttled all 400+ passengers to the terminal in one 30-passenger bus going back and forth. But by golly we were on British soil and what the heck, we’re here now.
And on the bottom of the credit-card receipt Cliff got from the British Consulate after paying the final round of $500 in visa application fees-- a cheery "Thank you, Please come again!"
Meanwhile, in DC, I was still packing and Cliff’s mom arrived to take us to the airport. She had forgotten her cell phone and borrowed one from a student. (Thanks, student!) So we never got the call to cancel our flight. We loaded up the car. Cliff called from the consulate to check in, and when I said we hadn’t cancelled, asked us to find out just how late we could be in getting on the plane. They told us if we got there by 2, they would get us on the plane. Cliff could make it on the 1:00 shuttle from LaGuardia, which was due to arrive at 2:04; maybe they would bend a bit and let us go. We all headed to the airport, grabbed a skycap, Sam (thanks, Sam!), and set up camp in the airport. Meanwhile, the best news all day greeted us: our flight was delayed at least a half-hour. Cliff managed to get on the shuttle; they made good time, landed early… and spent 20 minutes on the runway because there were no available gates. He finally got off the plane at 2:00, ran across the airport to meet us, and we checked in successfully. Yeah, us!
Now the funny (well, it’s funny now) part here is that it had rained the entire day in Boston, and all of American’s flights were backed up for miles because of it. Our flight got later and later, and by the time we took off at 7:00 we had missed our 7:00 connection, and ended up nearly running through JFK to the international terminal to catch the 9:30, which involved scurrying around the airport like rats looking for cheese, because there were no actual signs indicating the way to the international terminal, and the route to get there involved nearly leaving the airport entirely, passing the baggage pickup, and ended up funneling the passengers into two lines against a wall with no chairs or tables, asking us to juggle all of our luggage while removing our laptops from our bags and taking off shoes. Thanks, JFK—not. Of course, the 9:30 to Heathrow had by this time also been delayed, and sat on the runway until an 11:00 actual takeoff. Then, when we landed in Heathrow in the morning, the gates were (again) completely full and we had another hour to wait as they shuttled all 400+ passengers to the terminal in one 30-passenger bus going back and forth. But by golly we were on British soil and what the heck, we’re here now.
And on the bottom of the credit-card receipt Cliff got from the British Consulate after paying the final round of $500 in visa application fees-- a cheery "Thank you, Please come again!"