Friday, 25 May, 2012
I’m up at 4:30—in plenty of time to make the shuttle that’s leaving at 7:00 for the airport. There’s a coffee/tea station, as well as a refrigerator. The room even has a safe for one’s valuables hidden in the bedside table. I briefly consider making tea, but then I don’t want to be making a lot of pit stops, either, so I pass on it. The windows are circular, like large portholes, and I snap a picture of the dawn and view outside the window.
I check out and wait for the shuttle. As it pulls up, several other people run out of the hotel to join me and we’re off to the airport. More stumping, and I finally get to the check-in counter, present my passes and confirm wheelchair assist for the remaining flights. It’s a long trek to Security, and I’m patted down again—it must be the underwire bra that sets it off. One agent has opened my bottle of mouthwash and is sniffing it suspiciously, while another wants me to open my laptop, and then goes through every compartment in my purse.
Finally cleared, I’m exhausted and can hardly wait for the plane so I can sleep. It’s a 3-hour flight to London, and I sleep most of the way, but I manage to be awake for the snack—another vegetarian meal, good but not memorable.
Again at Heathrow there’s no wheelchair waiting, and off I go, trying to get to the other end of the terminal before my flight leaves. I needn’t have bothered to try for speed—the flight is delayed slightly, so I strike up conversation with a lady from Colorado Springs, and a gent from Salt Lake City. Mr. Utah has a great outgoing personality, and we talk about all sorts of things. There’s an announcement for the passenger who has left a pink heart-shaped box at Security to come and claim it, and he jokes that the guy’s wife will be awfully mad. There’s a Greek man sitting behind us and he chimes in with, “Ah, but maybe it’s not for his wife!” I quip, “But then his wife will REALLY be mad!” And we all laugh.
Finally we can board, and since I have priority boarding, I say goodbye to my friends and find my seat. The plane is a 767 this time and has two seats along each side and four in the middle. I’m sure I won’t see them again, and I only catch sight of Mr. Utah once during the flight when he stands up ‘way across the plane.
My seatmate is a very nice man and we schmooze a while awaiting the meal. My meal is rice, peas and corn, fried potatoes and spinach on one side of it, with a tomato mixture of veggies on the other side, a fresh salad, and fruit for dessert. It was extremely good, and has given me ideas for meals when I get home. This flight is 9-1/2 hours (it was 7 hours coming over—coming there’s a tailwind, that’s why it’s a shorter time), and I sleep or doze for most of it.
An hour before landing we have another snack—a cocoa-filled croissant which is very tasty, but the cup of yoghurt is bitter and sour, nothing like we’ve been eating, and I push it aside. I fill out my Customs form and have it and my passport ready for when we land. This landing is very jolting, and I’m sure passengers were wondering if we had actually landed or were shot down! Hello, Chicago!
Surprise! There IS a wheelchair awaiting me, and it’s a good thing, too. My young driver takes me through corridors, people movers, several elevators and a train to get to the right terminal. I have my boarding pass, so all I need to do is get through Customs and Security, and I wonder how we will do it.
He stops at a security desk to check himself and me in, then wheels me to a line for Customs, the first agent stamps my passport and waves me through, and we stop at a second agent, who gives me a beady eye, snorts at my passport and bags, and waves me on. Now it’s through the line for military travelers, where they make me get out of the wheelchair and into the cylinder for scanning. My ankles are so swollen they look like balloons by this time, and I can hardly walk or keep my balance. No pat down this time, though, and they barely look at my bags. Jamal takes me right to my gate, and I await my last flight, to Cleveland.
I’m a people watcher, and it doesn’t take me long to notice the heavy-set young woman across the aisle from me, who is knitting something very odd. Using teal green yarn there is something that looks like the elongated tail of a balloon—a tube about a half inch in diameter and about an inch in length—and now she has increased its size so that it looks rather like a cucumber warmer with a tail. We strike up a conversation, and I move across the aisle to sit next to her so we can talk. “What are you knitting?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. She stops, looks at it, laughs and then looks up at me and says, “Well, actually, it’s the end of an intestine and that tail is the anus.”
Her name is Devlin, and she goes on to explain that she works for a company that deals with digestive aids, and she makes many trips to Chicago, bringing back different powders in her luggage. There’s a competition of some sort, and her team has decided on a knit gastrointestinal system, complete with the viri that cause diarrhea. She is working with a pattern, and I asked her where she got it. “Oh,” she says, “you can get just about anything online!”
Her fiancé is a gastrointestinal surgeon, and she made one for him and he hung it on his apartment wall. She hauls out her cell phone, and pulls up a picture of it to show me what it looks like. There’s 32 feet or so of pearly aqua small intestines, and a burgundy-colored large intestine in her bag to complete the one she’s now working on. The patterns even cause little bulges as are found in the real thing! This has to be the icing on my vacation cake! I laugh every time I think about it all the way to Cleveland.
The flight just before mine is delayed due to mechanical problems, and keeps being put further and further back. Finally our plane comes in, but they board all the people who have been waiting for the first flight, and we are delayed an hour or until they can get another plane for ours. The time sure went quickly speaking with Devlin, and we’re finally ready to board.
This plane is very tiny, seating only about 50 people. There is one row of seats along my side of the plane, and two on the other. It boasts one stewardess and a pilot and co-pilot. There is beverage service, and she’s just about done with it when we’re ready to land.
I look out the window to view familiar landmarks, like Muni Light, downtown, and finally the I-X Center comes into view and we’re coming down. Another bumpy landing—in a monsoon that ends as abruptly as it starts, and I’m home.
Of all eight flights, four were in Greece, and the landings were gentle and smooth. In fact, I didn’t even feel one of them, just suddenly became aware that we were on the ground. I can’t say the same about the other four flights, which were all bumpy and rocky. Maybe our pilots need a refresher course in Greece?
Again, no wheelchair, and I ask the agent standing there about it. “Oh,” she says, “there’s been no request for one.” I patiently tell her that I confirmed it in Athens when I left that morning and that there was one in Chicago. She calls for one and indicates a place where I can wait. So I sit for a half hour, but none arrives, the agent disappears, and I have to start stumping again.
What a place! The escalators are all turned off and I’m forced to take the stairs since the elevators are all too far away to get to. Halfway down, a man in one of those four-seater golf carts on the lower level spots me and waits until I get down, then gives me a ride as far as he can go, pulls up by a wheelchair and we’re off to Baggage. Tom and Mary Ann are waiting for me once we get past the secured area, and I thank my driver for his help. Then it’s a stump to the parking garage and we’re on our way.
I’ve been traveling for over 24 hours, and I’m tired and hungry, so we stop at The Olive Garden to eat. Then it’s home, and I arrive at 10:30 p.m. to my apathetic cats, who pretend they don’t care. I’ve now been home a half hour and have heard five sirens—the first in two weeks! There simply were none to be heard in Greece!
A bath (with the cats clustered at the foot of the tub) and to bed. What a trip!
The Albanian Aftermath
Got this from Dana on Crilly’s trip:
Dearest All,
Spoke to very busy Crilly tonight so I'll be their secretary..they said Albania was most interesting, and that we all would have enjoyed it, even the Grand Papoo.. even though the tour party was made up mostly of Scots with big tattooed bellies hanging out of their shirts. They said Burint was amazing, made of massive ancient stones and slowly sinking into the lake and so was full of turtles. The roads were most odd, one mile would be paved, the next dirt, and everyone was motoring about in old Mercedes. Lots of cool trendy looking dudes and kids wanting to sell them stuff. The Albanian lunch was really good, and there was an odd town of demolished villas (either didn't pay the right bribes, or were built illegally, no one was quite sure), and some remarkable kitschy stuff in the shops they didn't have enough cash for. They did indeed find Grandma and Papoo's note on Jumpy when they got back and said it was very sad driving the bus down to Benitses for a last snorkle: it all seemed so empty without us. And even though Wales was hot and sunny when they got back they were longing for Corfu and feeling a wee bit miserable (for them!) Craig promises pics but said he had to ration them as his batteries were going and the memory card in his camera was all filled up!
No word about the dink in Jumpy. Maybe in Corfu that's considered par for the course!
All back to normal here today, too. Took down the Christmas decorations yesterday (with help from Tom, Marianne and Iris, it still took three hours!!) and now it looks like it's going to rain. Back to work.. always the worst thing about a holiday is that it ends. It was just fantastic seeing you all!!
lots of love ,
Dana xx
(Note on the Christmas decorations: My brother LOVES to put them up and the house is always madly decorated with lights and streamers and tinsel and the like for the holidays, both inside and out. When I was there in April, 2007, they were still up, and every room was festive!)
