Day 6 – Monday, December 1st – Travel day

We woke up early and packed. It had taken us two hours to get to the hotel from the airport, and I wanted to have at least two hours to get through security, plus a little fudge time if needed, so we were out of the hotel around 8:00. We headed to our good friend the Tube, and headed into the city. We only needed to make one transfer, and that went fine. The trains were crowded, so having luggage was a little burdensome. I can’t imagine what it would have been like closer to 9:00!

We knew the general direction to get to Heathrow, but there are five terminals there and the Tube makes three separate stops. Sadly, there were no signs or announcements telling you which terminal to get off at for a particular line. There was a phone number you could call, but that did not help us much. The sign said terminals changed all the time and so you should call. You mean to tell me that United flies into a different terminal every month? That seemed shady. Anyway, I used my amazing deductive abilities to determine we should go to Terminal 5. When we had come from the airport, the train was at a terminus, and Terminal 5 was clearly a terminus. Voila. Ipso Facto.

We got off at Terminal 5, and it did not look quite right. Still, I figured it was because we were going in to the airport, and after a few confused minutes of trying to figure out how to get to Departures (Heathrow has a dearth of signs), we found our way up to the gates. For British Air. The entire terminal was for British Air. Even given the unlikely event that Aer Lingus flies into terminals based on whimsy, you would think that if Terminal 5 was for British Air exclusively, you could take a risk and label that terminal “British Air.”

In an attempt to find out which of our other two choices for terminals was correct, we asked two British Air employees where US Air flew out of. One indicated a different airport. After we made minor protests about flying in to Heathrow, the second lady told us Terminal 4. Good. We headed back to the elevator bank. One set was for the Tube, and the other was for the express train to the city. Neither seemed like a good bet for an inter-terminal rail line, so we asked a custodian nearby. She expressed some confusion, then hazarded a guess we would want the train line. So, we got into that elevator with another man who, turns out, had missed his flight and was trying to get to Terminal 1. He had wandered the airport for several minutes trying to find a way out of Terminal 5. He also complained about the lack of signs. We mentioned our dilemma of trying to find US Air, and he said he thought we needed Terminal 1. Oh oh. We rode the elevator down one level, and we waited to go down one more level to the trains. The elevator then went back up. Huh. After some muttering on all three of our parts, we went down one floor, and then successfully made it to the train level.

Mer and I started looking for signs for an inter-terminal rail line, and you will be shocked to hear we did not find any. We asked an employee about our terminal, for which she had to radio to another employee, who suggested Terminal 1. It would appear British Air is a bit fuzzy on the airlines of the colonies. Armed with our destination, we asked how we got there. They told us to wait for the city express. Since I did not want to go to the city, I asked again, and they told us to sit in the front of the train when it got there. In 10 minutes. You have a world-class airport, and your inter-terminal rail line is a commercial train line that runs only 4 times an hour? Amazing. We waited for the train to pull up and for the people to get off. We filed on. We were then shooed off by a train worker, because the train was not ready for boarding yet. 30 seconds later, they announced we could get on. We got back on. After a few more minutes, we rolled out of Terminal 5 and headed to Terminals 1,2, and 3. The train was quiet and comfortable, and they did not charge us for the trip (thank goodness!). We got out at Terminal 1. All the fun we had in finding and getting to our correct destination made me grateful we were somewhere that used English. I cannot imagine how we would have found our way if we did not speak the language. Between lack of signs and confusing layouts and weird transit schedules, foreign travelers must get very confused.

Our checking-in process went well and quickly, and the only hiccup we had was Mer forgot she had water in her water bottle, which is a no-no she likes to try most times in security. Once the water was dumped in a nearby bathroom, we breezed through security – I was even able to leave my laptop in my backpack.

Once on the other side, we looked for our flight gate. Apparently  Heathrow is guided by whimsy, because any flight that was more than 90 minutes out had no gate. I guess you get a gate when you need one, and not before. Mer settled down with the backpacks, and I went in search of food. I quickly returned because I had found a restaurant that served real breakfasts, and we still had over two hours to go before our flight. We had a nice breakfast there (including the mandatory nice but foreign waitress – where do the English work?). After breakfast, we still had a few minutes before we were told what the gate lottery results were, so I took the opportunity to spend most of my remaining pounds on chocolate in the airport store.

We found our gate number and headed in that direction. We came to a sign warning about how there were few bathroom facilities past that point, so we turned around and used the restrooms. We went on, and went through a second security checkpoint, and got settled in at the gate. After a short bit, I decided that with a nine-hour flight ahead of me, I should use the bathroom one more time, and prepared to walk back to the central area. I saw a bathroom symbol near our gate, and investigated. It led to a huge, well-stocked, and fully functional bathroom. It appears that when Heathrow does put up a sign, you may need to be careful about believing it.

We still had about 30 minutes before we could board, so I used a pound coin on a nearby massage chair. It actually worked pretty well, and helped loosen the knots in my back. I gave my last pound coin to Mer so she could try it. With that, we were able to board.

Our flight took off a little late, and on the far end in Philly we had to circle a bit because of backup from a wind storm that had come through. All in all, it was about a 9.5-hour flight, which is a long time for me and my back. Mer graded for most of the flight, and I passed the time as best I could. I read some of Fitzgerald’s short stories, then I watched Iron Man because I could. Then I watched Indiana Jones and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Wow. The only way I can recommend this film is if it is free and you are trapped in an airplane. What. A. Bad. Film. Ewwwwwww. Even Harrison Ford could not save this film from being unbelievable most of the time and boring for much of the time. I vastly enjoyed seeing Iron Man for the second time much more than seeing the Kingdom of the Crystal Bore.

We got into Philly, and because of getting in about an hour late, Mer and I were concerned about our flight to Cleveland – we only had about an hour to get to the gate (which was well labeled on a nearby monitor). Since we were near the front of the plane, we got through customs quickly, and went to retrieve our luggage.

Now, we are not total fools. Since Mer’s suitcase had fallen apart on the way to London, we did not pack anything in the main section of her suitcase. We crammed most of our things into my suitcase for safe keeping. The luggage carousel soon started regurgitating suitcases, so I took up my position to retrieve our things in an efficient manner so we could make our connection. I waited. Suitcases went by. I waited. More suitcases went by. I waited. The same suitcases went by again. After a very long time, Mer’s suitcase appeared. Success! Mine would surely be coming behind. I waited. And waited. And waited. A nearby baggage handler asked me what my suitcase looked like, and I described it. He looked at the 4 bags left on the belt, and shook his head. He asked where I had come from, and upon hearing that I had come from Heathrow, he told me that Heathrow messes up luggage all the time. So, Mer and I went to the baggage office and filed our second luggage report of the trip.

Once we were back underway, with Mer’s nearly empty bag now re-checked for a domestic flight, we hustled toward the most distant terminal in Philly, from which our flight was to depart. We were going to be pushing things very closely, and the monitors all indicated an on-time flight. Happily, Mer saw a sign for a Terminal-toTerminal bus (that ran every 2-3 minutes! Ha!), and we jumped on that. We got to our gate just at the scheduled take-off time. I breathlessly asked the attendant if we had missed the flight to Cleveland, and she gave me a bit of a funny look. She indicated the plane was not even at the airport yet. In the 5 minutes we were on the bus, the plane had gone from “on time” to a delayed flight. This is a slight pet peeve of mine. Airports are pulling this stunt more and more in my experience – they are posting a flight as on time right up until it is supposed to take off, even if the plane is still in Chicago. Still, I should be grateful – the delay made it sure that we would make our flight back to Cleveland.

The remainder of the trip was without incident – we got to Cleveland just a bit late, and the car was there and started, and we got home at 9:30 pm, just 18 hours or so after leaving the hotel in the Docklands. Weird.

Some general musings, in no real order:
London’s (and Paris’s, for that matter) subway system puts our mass transit to shame. The Tube is easy to use, and goes everywhere. You don’t have to go downtown and then go back out to the suburbs – you just take a direct line. We could learn a lot from the Tube.

Heathrow needs to be more user-friendly.

The British are wonderfully non-American in consumer areas. The stores in the malls were closing at 5:00 and 6:00 on Friday and Saturday heading into the holiday season. And one evening, Mer and I bought a “plain chocolate chip” cookie. Tell me where in America you would ever use the word “plain” to describe anything for sale.

Pedestrian bridges are pretty and pretty useful. Chicago should take note.

Londoners seem pretty friendly and helpful.

In five days of being in London, we only saw one beggar and one homeless man. I do not know where all the homeless are, but somehow the British keep them away from the tourist areas.

London is amazingly cosmopolitan. I really do think that at least half of all people we interacted with in London were not English.

Travel is good. We were watching a Doctor Who tonight that had a climatic battle on Canary Wharf, probably two blocks from out hotel. We recently watched the Bourne Ultimatum, some of which took place in Tube stations and in London. It is really cool to get excited about looking for places we have been. Travel often!