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New England: Sunday, 19th August 2001 |
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Written by Stephen Baines
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Sunday, 19 August 2001 |
I've managed to get over the worst bit, and that's the most important thing. To say that I was scared about the flight is a slight understatement. To say that I was panicking about the trip, again, is a slight understatement. I must hold the world record for the number of times I checked my tickets, passport and driving licence, and an all time record for the length of time to pack for the journey. Seven days, near enough, from start to finish.
The journey started off relatively uneventfully, with the taxi turning up, and taking me down to the airport. I was at Heathrow Terminal 4 just before 1:45pm, and quite calm. Yesterday I'd been in a little bit of a panic, and somehow managed to get BA's web site more than a little confused to the point where it had an error, and I wasn't entirely sure if I'd actually checked in or not, or even managed to get myself thrown off the flight altogether. I'd phoned up, explained my situation, and explained I was more than a little nervous. The very helpful people on the check-in line checked, everything was fine, and moved me to somewhere with a bit more room, and not in the middle of a row of three, with the added bonus of a restricted view of the safety movies. As I was a "nervous passenger", they said that they'd keep a special eye on me, and check that I was alright during the flight.
As instructed, I went to check-in desk 25, only to find that they weren't doing the check-in's there, but at desk 52 instead, so of I toddled to the proper desk, and got myself luggage sorted. Not entirely sure where I was meant to go next, or what to do, I enquired as to where to go. I was pointed in the direction of the security check, so off I went, via the Bureau de Change.
Through to security, and up to the man with the x-ray machine and the metal detector... After my last trip, I remembered I had to put all metal things in the bowl, which I did. I also put the mobile phone in there, which apparently was wrong, and I was instructed to go back and put "that thing" through the x-ray machine. Call me stupid - and I'm sure many will - but I haven't a clue what is meant to go through the machine. All they said was to put things from your pockets in the bowl, which I did. I don't think I can really be faulted for that.
It was now just after 2pm, and I still had another 1.5 hours before the flight would start to board. I had a potter around the shops, had a sandwich, and was very restrained, managing only to buy a litre of Bombay Sapphire. Boarding time arrived, and I wandered off to gate 11, and waited.
Eventually we went on board, and I found my seat, sat, and started to panic. I think the safety belt was on within 2 seconds of being seated, if I recall correctly. Despite what the helpful girl on the British Airways line had said, no one came to check I was alright. The pilot announced that due to the bad weather, there would be a slight delay. This brought on the major nerves, as I remembered all too well the last time I was on a flight that was delayed due to weather. Then they announced that due to the bad weather, we were being diverted via the lake district and Greenland to get to Boston, and it would be "bumpy", and I started to worry a little more. Despite them knowing I was a "nervous flyer", still no-one came to check I was alright. I held onto the seat-handles for dear-life and waited...
The engines roared, and finally we were up in the air. It was actually a lot worse than I remembered - my memory had managed to blot out the worst of it since the last time I flew. And on I hung, feet in the air to help the plane get up in the skies, until the drinks came around.
Thought about a G&T, saw they only had Gordons, and decided I'd rather not bother - settled for a glass of coke instead, and managed to drink it without crushing the cup.
Finally the ride settled out a bit, and I calmed a bit, and the food came around. I was quite hopeful for the food, the web site made a big thing about how the menus were prepared by Brian Turner (a personal God of the kitchen - his method for making Yorkshire Puddings never fails). It arrived, and quite quickly I started to wish that they'd not bothered.
The menu suggested that the offering was a caesar salad with parmesan flakes, croutons and dressing. This was to be followed with grilled lamb medallions with rosemary jus, sea salt roasted potatoes and 'seasonal vegetables', followed by classic British Summer Pudding. The caesar salad turned out to be a bowl of iceberg lettuce with a small pot of over vinegared dressing, 3 or 4 slivers of parmesan, and half a cherry tomato. The main course had a new definition of roast potatoes, as they had clearly been deep-fried, and the sea salt looked suspiciously like finest saxo. The lamb... What can I say? It obviously wasn't from just the one animal, unless it's tissue had grown in some very strange directions, which would have made it very easy to catch for farmer. Also, clearly, worries about poisoning the passengers meant that the lamb had to be near-cremated. Seasonal vegetables means what they have in the freezer that day. The Summer Pudding. It was red. Let's just leave it at that, eh? Oh, the wine, almost forgot the wine. White wine, small writing "contains sulphite", correction should be white sulphite, contains some wine.
I think the flight has about another 4 hours to run, or so, and then it's off to find my rental car. I've had a succesful shopping trip on the plane, getting a nice fragrance and a nice new watch. Next part of the report will probably be when I get to the hotel later on, or tomorrow morning.
22:23 BST
Note: Airplanes are a good place to catch up with long-forgotten e-mails. |
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