As was mentioned earlier, I had a different Easter holiday than IAC. I returned to the US for my first time since moving to Wales. Unfortunately this wasn’t a holiday trip, a wedding, nor a vacation. I went back to New England to defend my dissertation. My trip wild ride began with a 7:30 am train from Aberystwyth. Everything was running smoothly until just before Birmingham (why do all of the problems start happening in England!?). The train slowed to a stop. No worry, I told myself, I have a few minutes connection and a planned arrival two hours before my flight. After the conductor told me that all of the trains would be backed up and I would not miss my connection, I was cool as a cucumber. Then I saw the Virgin train pass us to our left and realized that that train was my connection and was now in front of me.
Arriving at BHX, my fears were realized that we were passed by the connecting train. As an aside, this is my first encounter with switching trains in the UK, not a great start. Not only did I have to wait 20 minutes for the next scheduled train, but it too was about 7 minutes late. Still I am not worrying too much. That is why I had a two hour gap in my arrival, for just this eventuality. Admittedly, things started looking up when I finally boarded the train to London Euston. The train was quick and had some nice perks like power outlets at the seats. The ride into London was smooth and I didn’t have a problem with my ticket letting me into the tube. I am still on schedule to arrive 1:40 before my flight.
I need to take two trains to get to Heathrow by tube and I am fortunate to have the first line pull up right as I get to the platform. Manouvering my carry-on and backpack onto the crowded train, I am beginning to relax and prepare for my transatlantic flight. Then comes, or I should say not comes, the trouble. I arrive at the transfer platform for the Picadilly line to take me to Heathrow, and I wait, and I wait. 12 minutes go by before a T4 train comes. The ride through the heart of London is crowded but otherwise uneventful. As we get to the outskirts of town (out Zone 3 way) the train starts creeping along. At first I don’t notice much, just a usual slow down while tracks are switched or there is a slower train in front. But then, I realize that the train isn’t really picking up speed. It continues to go slow or stop. We are creeping along as I nervously check the time pass. By the time the train arrives into terminal 4, I have now lost 45 minutes of my buffer. As IAC knows, I am starting to panic. I think the train won’t wait long at T4 because it is about 30 minutes late in arriving anyway. So much for that theory. The driver announces a 7 minute wait at the station and he leaves the train. With no other choice but to wait, I continue to steal glances at my mobile checking the time. By the time the train arrives into T1,2,3, there are about 63 minutes left before my flight.
I was unprepared for the maze of corridors and moving sidewalks that I had to navigate to get to terminal 3. At this point I am running/jogging/walking fast and weaving between people as the HSBC advertisements are telling me of the cost of college in different countries around the world (the US came out on top, we’re number 1!). Arriving at the terminal I make a mad dash to find the Air Canada check-in counter (of course there would be renovations at the terminal today!) and can only find the 1st class check-in. They are polite and are more than willing to help me right up to the point where I saw I need to check-in for the 3:30 to Montreal at which point their demeanor changes and they tell me, “The flight is closed, we close that sixty minutes before departure”. I glance at my watch, 2:36.
Pleading comes to no avail, I simply get passed along to the ticket counter around the corner to “see what they can do.” The answer, not much without some money thrown their way. I repeat my sad story to the woman behind the counter who listens(?) to me as if she has heard it all before. She types away at her computer, ignoring my pleas to let me go to the gate and board the plane which still doesn’t leave for another 45 minutes. She says, we can get you to Toronto tonight and then to Boston tomorrow but you will have to pay, or we can try to get you on a direct flight to Boston on American Airlines but you will have to pay. Realizing that I will have to pay either way, I take the airline transfer, my receipt for 82 quid, and my body pumped full of natural chemicals from the nervousness/anger and head over to the AA counter to check in (the flight leaves in three and a half hours). While the AA representative tries to figure out what to do with my transfer I try to calm down by telling her my situation. She responds with a kind and simple, “We would have just given you the ticket. Actually, it is up to the people at the gate, but I am sure it wouldn’t have been a problem.” Who woulda thought that AA would have been friendlier than Air Canada?
The rest of my travel was fairly uneventful. The flight left three hours after my Air Canada flight but managed to get in 45 minutes before my scheduled time because it was direct. The flight was fine but the guy next to me by the window decided he needed to get up and move around about every thirty minutes. In between getting up for him, I reread the majority of my dissertation to remind myself what I did eight years ago. I also used the opportunity to find typos, more on that later.
After picking up the rental car (left-hand drive, right side of the road) I spent the night at S&G’s. Arriving late and hungry, we made a run for the border for dinner. It was nice to be in America again. I even grabbed a stash of fire sauce to bring back to IAC.
This was just the first day of my adventure.
