USA 2006, Part 11 - day one

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4th October: and so THE day dawns at last. "Dawns?" That's a silly word - it's still pitch black at that time of day, but off we go at 5.33, and a surreal time that was, as will be seen! But the chosen route was clear, and we got to the airport at about 7.20; a wise decision, as, on her return home, my wife noted the not-unexpected problems with the M25 in the Gatwick-bound direction. Straight to check-in, and amazingly was away from it by 7.40. And it was then that there were the telltale signs of heightened security. "What's that dog doing, queuing for a flight to Greece, (or perhaps Malta)?" I wondered. The question was soon answered - a sniffer dog, and his owner's colleague was nearby, complete with sub-machine gun.

No real point in hanging around, so it was off the join a long queue for security. The general opinion appeared to be "an hour at least", but amazingly, and I still can't believe this, I was through there in 10 minutes, giving me an hour or so till the boarding gate opens. At least there's a quiet viewing gallery of sorts and the opportunity to catch up on water, bearing in mind that carry-on fluids are banned. A couple of photos, but before the inevitable route march - Gate 21, a phone call from home, and Shelagh had got back with no trouble or delays, (using the M25 this time), except for a small puddle from one of the dogs. If that’s all, then, that’s fine. So far there have been no delays at all, and the entrance at the Gate for the flight was no exception. Some bags were being opened, shoes removed, but all I got was a "take a seat, Sir". Although there were no signs to say so, no photos are allowed from the waiting area, so there's no souvenir of the plane, (Airbus 330) either inside or out, not at Gatwick, nor at Charlotte, nor at Philadelphia.

This is as good a day as any to be reminded of what Mark Twain said: “The man who is a pessimist before 48 knows too much; if he is an optimist after that, he knows too little”. As I’m essentially an optimist, anyway, it figures that I’ve got a hell of a lot of learning to catch up on. And writing this afterwards, yes, I did learn a lot.

Eventually on board, and what is there to say about the next few hours? Just the predictable boredom of it all. We were warned of a couple of bumpy patches, 45 minutes out, and again near the US coast. Personally, I thought the approach to Bromley Common Cricket Club is rougher - and for those of my readers who don't know, it's a very rough unmade track - or possibly the Sturry Road park and ride in Canterbury.

The meal? "Chicken or pasta?" Not hugely inspiring, but it was hot, followed by a small fruit salad, some cheese and biscuits, and chocolate mousse. Swapped the cheese with the woman in the next seat for her mousse. She wasn’t impressed with the book she bought for the flight, at £8.99 ($16), and was less impressed with learning that MY book cost me 20p (35c) off the reject trolley in my local library.

But what else is there to do at 39000' other than be driven insane by the constant drone of the engines, and the equally constant recycling of the air; I'm sure I must have smelt the lunch 4/5 times. So, I dozed, nursed the inevitable "first day of my holiday (tension) headache", and honed my Sudoku skills (skills?), thanks to the complimentary copy of the Daily Mail with six of the puzzles, through to arrival at Charlotte at 2.39 EST (five hours behind home), "where the temperature is a fine 82".

Then began Immigration and Customs. Just my luck to be directed to a queue behind a couple who needed an interpreter, and then the question. "Who do you know at ?" "It's a motel I picked at random from the internet, as being close to Philadelphia airport" seemed to satisfy him, but I was still one of the last away from immigration - at least there wasn't going to be a scramble looking for my case, as, by now, there were only 3/4 to choose from. A quick re-check, and through to another security check, more stringent than Gatwick. This meant shoes off AND my camcorder out of its case. It turned out that my shoes went through the scanner separately, to the consternation of the guy doing the scanning.

Still, by now time was running low and so there was a mad rush for several passengers other than me to the gate for the Philadelphia flight, but, as it turned out, any anxiety was wasted.

This plane was an Airbus A320 and we flew at only 27000'. That didn’t strike me as being very high; I mean you go higher than that by Ryanair to Germany.

But we took off at 4.02, crossed the Potomac River at 24000', and stopped dead on 5.33, 17 hours to the minute after leaving home. Surreal, or what?

What was amazing, and what was repeated on every other flight, was the way the definition of “one item of carry-on luggage” was stretched. My suitcase in the plane’s hold was smaller than some of the stuff that was taken on board, and crammed into the overhead racks. “What are they carrying?” was the inevitable question. Observation revealed time and time again that just about every suitcase-sized briefcase was a mobile office, containing at least one mobile phone, invariably in use right up till take off. Are some people REALLY so important? Perhaps “self-important” is better. Different to hear “I’m at the airport”, rather than “I’m on the train"

Baggage collection was straightforward, and then out of the airport, stopping only to buy a phone-card. At least the motel had an airport collection service - reason why I chose it - so that was the easy part. Ready for collection by 6 p.m. and in next to no time I was delivered, registered, and installed. As you’d expect, the room was pretty well identical to just about every other hotel/motel room throughout the rest of the world, but at least there was a bed. Actually there were two. Big ones. And air-conditioning, and I soon turned that off.

Despite the lateness of the hour - by my body clock - I thought I might as well dine out, to sample the local culinary delights. First mistake, and golden rule number one, which I suppose I should have realised: the distance to food increases with the distance from the town centre, or that sort of principle anyway. Day 1 and I’d already let myself down by forgetting that other important rule of life taught by one of the best school teachers I’d ever had, if not THE best, dear Pete Powrie at Ealing GS: “when all else fails, use common sense, if any”. Perhaps, wthd hindsight, I should have eaten at the airport, or, at least bought a light snack.

Actually, there was a Chinese Restaurant on site, so my first US meal was nothing other than sweet and sour shrimp. Wow; exciting. What a way to come for that. It wasn’t too bad, though.

And here ends the first day: and yes, TV is as ghastly as I’d feared. But apart from that, did I have any initial impressions, thoughts, or worries or concerns?

I guess, at this stage there were just two: just how big everywhere is. The largeness of the airport, the width of the roads from the airport to the motel, and the size of the lorries - sorry, trucks. The articulated trailers were just massive. And the other thing that struck me as odd was the number of cables, power and telephone that were above the ground. That’s something I rarely see at home, for such cables are normally buried under ground

End of day one

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