Hey, ECers! I've started keeping a journal/blog/whatever while on vacation, and thought a few of you might be interested enough to give it a read. I occasionally have some downtime and some internet access, so when I do, I'll copy'n'paste what I've got. See you when I get back! Wed/Thu, Jun 23-24th Denver CO, Chicago IL, London UK, Dover UK The trip didn't have an auspicious start - I only got about three hours of sleep the night before leaving. Ordinarily, this wouldn't bother me all that much, but our intinerary called for us to fly to Chicago, have a four-hour layover, then fly to London, immediately take a bus to the dock, board the ship, and start the cruise (at around 4pm). This meant my only real chance to sleep over the next 24-hours-plus would be on a plane or a bus - neither places I excel at getting what you might call quality sleep. Being sleep-starved before I even leave wasn't going to help matters any. Or would it? I mean, I already know my sleep schedule is about to be squirrelly. Perhaps starting off already tired might get me a head-start on getting it back on "Europe time". Our flight to Chicago was on a 767-300, and I can't recall flying the last time I flew on one. We were seated in "business class", where the seats are arranged 2-3-2 per row. Upon getting our tickets, we laid claim to both aisle seats in the middle "three" section, and hoped we'd have the middle seat free...or at least have it filled with someone pleasant. However, my recent spate of "flight-neighbor luck" continued. (My previous flight had given me a the prototypical crying infant.) She was a smallish Korean woman, and seemed very quiet as she sat down between us. She spent takeoff with her eyes closed, doing absolutely nothing, which I find a bit odd but, given the options, I'll take somebody I can ignore over somebody I can't any day. However, once the plane had gotten any alititude at all, she revealed herself to be what I'm gonna call a "rafop" - which is short for "rules are for other people". As soon as the flight attendants got the "ping" letting them know they could leave THEIR seats....she figures she could, too. She unhooked her seat belt, crawled over Pubert, opened the overhead bin, and started rummaging around. And, of course, upon seeing this, other people on the flight thought "well, if she can get up, I don't see why I can't"...and began doing the same thing. It took the flight a bit of time to get everybody back into their seats. The woman spent most of her flight working on a PowerPoint presentation (I think - it was in Korean) on her laptop, and often kept stretching outward into me, which, considering her stature, seemed like an unnecessary demand of personal space. Not surprisingly, she kept working on her laptop long after the call to "turn off all electronic devices" was made, and she barely had time to turn the damn thing off before we were in final descent. At which point, she shoved the laptop under the seat in front of her, leaned her head against that seat, and grabbed a barf bag. Really? Now this too? Luckily, nothing resulted from it. Meanwhile, across the aisles from us, Pubert had another rafop (kept checking his e-mail on his cell phone during the taxiing and takeoff), and I had a woman who kept insisting (via cell phone first, then to her cohorts nearby) that since she couldn't get a rescheduled doctor appointment for her son (apparently, she and her son were "home" for all of 24 hours before flying out again), and since they hadn't cleared him to play sports after his recent surgery, well, then, she was just going to assume he was OK to play sports, and if something happened to her son, it would be on THEIR heads, not hers. I tend to look at all this sort of behavoir with rather bemused detachment. But even I thought this was more "humans behaving badly" than I really needed two hours into our vacation. Once in Chicago, things took a turn for the much-better. And as snobby as it might be to admit it, it can be summed up in two words - "first class". After retrieving our luggage, we dragged it over to the international terminal. We rechecked it in, went through security, and got our first taste of "first class" - we were given passes to the "first class lounge" during the four-hour layover before our next flight. "Red carpet clubs" in airports always intrigued me, mainly because I've always been on the other side of the doors. And now that I've been inside one, I can say it's pretty much what I thought it'd be. Nice seats, plenty of magazines, a large TV, an open bar, tasty snacks. I was expecting more of a staff presence - somebody offering drinks to everybody every twenty minutes or something - but in retrospect, I think they're right to simply leave us all to our own devices. I spent the entire time sipping diet sodas or green tea, occasionally nibbling on a Milano cookie, and reading the book of Sherlock Holmes stories I had bought the day before, while listening to the Muzak-cum-new age music being quietly piped in. Not everybody's idea of a good time, but I certainly enjoyed myself. Then we got on the flight to London, and things got even better. Pubert had decided to splurge here, and get first class accomodations on Virgin-Atlantic. Upon originally hearing this, I didn't feel all that much intrigued. Yeah, first class means more leg room, and being over six feet tall, this comes in handy. And I assumed first class would make the seven hour flight nicer. But wow. The seats were extremely comfortable. They convert to a surprisingly comfortable bed at the touch of a button. Movies, documentaries, and video games are all available. Each seat has an ottoman that can also be used as a second seat, in case you want to eat "across the table" from your flying companion. Link if you're interested in what it looks like. We ended up being grounded in Chicago for over an hour due to big thunderstorms rolling in, but neither of us minded in the slightest. I quickly changed into the issued "sleep suit" - black pajamas, basically, that they give you to wear if you want. Then I sat in the comfy seat, sipping Diet Coke or champagne (I had one of each), reading my book, feet propped up on the ottoman. This is the way to ride out a flight delay, I've decided. Even better, I managed to get a good chunk of sleep in during the flight. I converted the seat into a bed, put on the issued earplugs and mask, and got somewhere between three and four hours of sleep. Not a lot, admittedly, but considering how little I traditionally have gotten on flights over the years, it was incredible. The flight crew was, naturally, very friendly and helpful as well, although it did take a bit of time for my ears to adapt to various British accents. Anything negative at all to say? Only minor nitpicks. Some of the food was amazing, but we both found the beef to be quite overcooked. And my TV monitor didn't work very well. That bit was fine with me - I wasn't planning to watch much of anything, anyway - but I'm sure other people would be annoyed. The one real problem to arise was on Pubert's end. He forgot to take his Ambien when he should've, leading him to a tough choice - take it late or don't take it at all. He chose A. And after trying to sleep all flight, he just couldn't. So about an hour before we landed, he reconverted his bed to a seat, got changed out of his sleep suit, and sat down to read instead. And promptly fell asleep. He woke up about half an hour later, and looked at me with frightened eyes. "I don't know where we are," he said nervously. Not understanding the question, I said "I think we're about half an hour outside London." He looked around at the plane, and then back at me. "You mean, we've left Denver?" I said, "Oh. Yes. We flew to Chicago, with that woman who kept getting up and using her laptop..." "OH! Right. Yes. OK." Apparently, this is an Ambien side effect called "traveller's insomnia", in which your short-term memory gets a bit scrambled. It manifested itself one other time, in London. We had given our bags to a porter to take to a bus (to be shipped off to port), and ten minutes later, Pubert looked around in a panic and said "Oh my God, where did our bags go?!" Eventually, we got onto the bus taking us to Dover. My main impression of that trip was that American drivers are much more asshole-y than British ones. But I sort of assumed that, anyway. I nodded off quite a bit, but never did get any real sleep. Once in Dover, we got on board the ship, got up to our stateroom...and promply fell asleep. Good thing we've already seen all of the "welcome aboard" activities the Disney Cruise Line provides. Lex
