From a combination of mental and physical exhaustion, I slept a solid ten hours last night. Just as an aside, we’ve been taking malaria pills which are known to cause vivid dreams and difficulty in discerning dream from reality immediately upon waking up. This trip hasn’t yielded any truly crazy ones, but last night I had a “malaria dream” that my friend Greg was on safari with us and on a whim he decided to take a COVID test and was immediately positive. So Greg, if you’re reading this, just for clarification, you should take a test. Apologies for the spoiler alert on the result.
If you can believe it, we woke up not knowing where we were going. There were plans to go to Washington Dulles since there appeared to be some business class seats. Luckily we didn’t choose this, as the #1 person on standby ended up getting a terrible seat in row 46 or something. This phase of the trip was supposed to be to New England to relax for a few days, but we have no clothes. The other option was to relax in Tampa at the Conadio, but all flights to Tampa are canceled due to Category 4 Hurricane Helene. Someone doesn’t want us to enjoy the tail end of our trip. Thanks, Greg. Somehow this is your fault.
As an extra layer of complexity, we debated just giving up and flying all the way back to Los Angeles, but my house keys are in my checked bag that is still in Nairobi, presumably circling a baggage carousel for infinity all lonely and depressed. If there is a god, or if Greg can bugger off for a bit, maybe our bags will be found and flown to Tampa in the interim. We get our keys, a bit of dignity, and can actually get back into our own house by the end of the month. We are both a bit pessimistic about it.
After grabbing a cream tea at a nearby cafe, we discussed our options, which were not lengthy. Most flights to North America depart before noon. There are a handful of other options dipping into the afternoon — one of these being a direct flight on Virgin Atlantic from Heathrow to Orlando. Whereas Tampa’s airport had completely shut down, Orlando was open for business. Furthermore, Salt, everyone’s favorite senior travel couple, reside in Orlando. We have some clothes kept there, so that could be a lifesaver, or at least a money saver for the time being.
After checking out of the hotel, we took a Bolt (Uber’s less expensive European cousin) to Heathrow and checked in for our flight. We asked an agent what the seat situation was like, concerned that the canceled Heathrow-Tampa flights would be transferred to the Orlando route. We were told Orlando was payload/weight restricted and that’s why no tickets were available to buy, but we were assured this didn’t affect standby staff travel. Cool. There ended up being close to 200 seats open. While we waited for our flight, we spent time in a crowded Priority Pass lounge as a rainstorm passed overhead.
Speaking of overhead, ceilings in most of Terminal 3 at Heathrow are shockingly low. A light hop would result in my head going through the roof. It is just one of a thousand reasons why Heathrow is terrible. Also, there is an average of one bathroom every 1/2 mile inside the terminal, and it smells horribly of urine. Eventually a gate was announced, but all we had to do was follow all the people with mouse ears. Nicole and I were issued seats in different rows, but we each had a row to ourselves in Virgin’s “Economy Delight” which offered extra legroom. Not a bad seat all things considered. Naturally, I eventually popped up a row to crowd and snuggle with Nicole.
We departed from Heathrow almost an hour behind schedule having nothing to do with Hurricane Greg Helene. The delay was blamed on . . .the rain . . . in England. Huh. Interesting. Were they not expecting it? It was an 8.5 hour flight on the A350. Half the flight attendants were also wearing mouse ears. With a little under two hours to go, we were served afternoon tea with finger sandwiches. The scones were warm! Take note, United, and your cold ass buns.
Having not made up any time enroute, we slammed down onto a runway in Orlando as if the airplane was angry with it. After flying past everyone thanks to Global Entry, we picked up our rental car from Alamo and were on the way to Chez Salt, the residence of everyone’s favorite senior travel couple. The wind and rain slowed our progress a bit, but after about 40 minutes, we arrived. We showered. We did laundry. We attempt to recover.
passports & pepto bismol 