Goodbye London, Hello Toledo

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Today we slept in a little. The alarm was set for 7:15 am rather than the ungodly hour of 6:15. It was almost like a vacation.

Now anyone who has traveled with me and my family knows one thread weaves it’s way through most of our adventures. Tragedy. There is usually someone on the plane who gets sick, is dehydrated, can’t breathe, has swollen ankles, etc. The list goes on and on. As a trained EMT I have been called upon to treat them all on one trip or another.

Then there is the lost person who misses the coach, the pickpocket at the Vatican Gift shop, the lost passports, the broken camera, on and on. Each time we take a trip something goes awry, but this trip, this perfect trip through Britain was almost tragedy free. I did say, ALMOST. Let me explain.

Everything was going perfectly. Last night we decided to forego packing until the morning since we had until 9:40 to catch our ride to Heathrow. Hence the late start.

We showered, and I went through the souvenirs, packing the bottles carefully, wrapped in dirty clothes in our two main suitcases. Then I made sure the rest of out horde was carefully packed in the carry on bag we bought last year in Florence specifically for this purpose. We checked the room, once, twice three times. Satisfied nothing was unaccounted for, we went to breakfast.

We enjoyed our last English Breakfast, lounged around the hotel restaurant, said good bye to some of our fellow travelers, and headed back to the room to get our gear and head out. Before heading back to the elevator to the 9th floor, we stopped at the Trafalgar desk to make sure we were on the right coach at the right time. The representative confirmed our reservation so we went upstairs, grabbed our gear, and headed down to get the ready.

I had a few minutes, so I sat down outside reception, put my backpack on the floor beside my seat and finished yesterday’s blog page. Before I could upload the blog, I heard Cathy say something to someone about why wasn’t our names on the list for the coach? Oh no, I thought and closed the tablet and went to the front to investigate the situation.

By the time I got there, Cathy already had the situation well in hand. It seemed that there were two drivers at 9:40 going to Heathrow. We were with the second driver. (Can you see where this is going yet?)

I grabbed my carry on suitcase with all the souvenirs, and packed our large bags into the back of a newer model Mercedes sedan. Two others joined us with their luggage in tow. It was a little tight, but Viktor, our Ukrainian driver, had it covered. It was 17 miles to the airport and Viktor said, because of traffic, it would take 45 minutes to get to Heathrow. No biggie, we had 3 hours.

Viktor was really cool. To avoid traffic, he took us through local neighborhoods, like Chelsea, told us stories of famous people he has driven over the past 25 years, told us about his son, and just kept our minds off the building traffic. It was a great ride and we got to the airport in under 45 minutes.

Now the tragedy. Just as we pulled into the parking spot to drop us off, it hit me: I left my backpack at the hotel! Yup I truly could not end this vacation without trauma, so I devised a way to royally fiber things up.

I asked Viktor if he could possibly drive us all the way back to the hotel, get the bag, and get back here in time to catch the flight. He was dubious to say the least, but was willing to give it a try, however he had to get permission from management to do it.

Viktor called Phil his boss, (what a coincidence eh?), who readily agreed to allow Viktor to give it a try. We jumped back into the Mercedes and headed back. Now, traffic out of Heathrow was building. Victor’s GPS was telling us we would not get back to the hotel until at least 11:15. This was cutting it close, but we had to try.

Viktor had an idea. We called the hotel and made sure the bag was still there. Brilliant. We used his phone and made the call. After talking to housekeeping, then the front desk, then the concierge desk, we finally struck gold with hotel security; they had the bag. One issue was solved, but the problem was we were now stuck in traffic.

We called back to security and asked if there was any way they might consider shipping the bag to my house. The reply was, “Sure, we have a form for that!” Obviously, I am not the first numbskull to have forgotten a bag.

The concierge desk gave me the proper email address and the information they would need to process my request. I told Viktor to turn around and head back to the airport. Using my phone and the car's WIFI, I completed the form as Viktor negotiated our heavily trafficked route back to Heathrow.

We did return by 11:30, giving us enough time, we hoped, to get through security and make the flight. I have to give credit to Viktor for his ability to get us back in time but the real kudos go to Cathy who never called me a jerk or worse during the whole ordeal. I am sure that was something I could not have done. So thanks, Cathy. I AM AN ASS!

Feeling a little better, not much just a little, we negotiated the first ordeal, dropping off the bags. Our concern was whether our bags were overweight. My bag was exactly 50 pounds and Cathy's was 49. Goal achieved, bags checked.

Next stop security. Now security in Europe is a little different than in the US, not necessarily better, just different. You enter a line, then split into one of three lines. Here at a table in front of their version of TSA, you remove your liquids, put them in a plastic bag and the security personnel promptly throws the bag in the trash!

When we were next, the agent asked me if I had any liquids my bag I said NO. Cathy chose a different route and replied in the affirmative, prompting her to have to search through her bag to find the offending substance, in this case a small bottle of hand sanitizer. The agent provided the plastic bag and the banned substance was bagged, tagged and promptly returned to Cathy, who added the bottle to her scanned carry one and returned it to her bag. Why some liquids were ok and some not remains a mystery.

I removed my belt, dropped my bags for scanning, and proceeded through the metal detector. Cathy got pulled aside and was asked to remove her shoes and go through the full body scan. I walked through shoes and all. We were almost through when my bag was kicked out for further inspection.

It seems that the two rolls of Scottish cheese I was “smuggling" out of the country looked too much like a bomb, so they were pulled out, inspected, and promptly returned. Finally, approved to proceed, we headed to the Delta Sky club and another ordeal.

I am a Platinum Delta Sky member, an AMEX, platinum card holder, and an AMEX Priority club member, so getting into the Delta Sky Club should have been a no brainer.

We followed the signs to area H, and walked up to the front desk at the Sky Club, whipped out my Platinum AMEX Card, and was promptly denied entry. Being ready I countered with the Priority Club card and was denied a second time. What the hell? I pay good money for club privileges. How can I be denied, and twice at that?

It seems the European clubs have different rules and we were instructed to go to the Priority One Club where my Priority Club card would grant us entrance. So we traipsed down stairs, walked over to area F, stood in line, got to the desk and boom - denied. The club was not accepting small groups in case larger groups were coming.

I was pissed and let the desk know it. Needless to say they let us in. We enjoyed a beverage, some food, use of the facilities, and were out of there in less than 45 minutes. Seems that rank does not have its privileges in the EU.

Well, we thought all the trauma was behind us, but not all. Cathy and I were supposed to have the bulkhead seats as we did on the way out. When I checked in last night, those were the seats we had on the seat map so I was surprised to find our seats were 5 rows further back than the map showed. I inquired what happened. It seems they changed the aircraft so our seats were no longer bulkhead, but we were still in comfort plus so we did enjoy a larger seat. Oh well, in 6 hours we will be back in the good old US of A. The end to an exceptional trip.

I hope you enjoyed this missive as much as I enjoyed writing it. My goal was to entertain, inform, and enlighten you about touring with the hope that you too will get the urge and get out there and see the world and write your own story.

If you want to correspond, please feel free to contact me at [e-mail]. HAPPY TRAVELS, until next time.

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