Leaving Las Vegas

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We spent the last few minutes trying to remember all of those last minute things to do when leaving the house: Turning off lights, leaving some on, shutting off water to the water purifier, then shutting off water to the inside house plumbing, unplugging the pump that recirculates the hot water, disposing of perishables, and as luck would have it, today is also “trash day”. Our neighbors graciously offered to shuttle us to the airport. She needed to take her car in for servicing near the airport anyway, and her son picked us up, and then picked up his mother who had just finished dropping off her car. We were thankful that we’d padded our commute time when we hit stop-and-stop traffic on the loop, winding down to one lane before everyone was forced to exit. An overnight shoot-out on the freeway had stopped traffic in both directions. We were able to get back on the freeway and continue, but it took some time to clear that one intersection which wasn’t anticipated the volume exiting the freeway that morning.



We were dropped off at the United check-in, and our neighbor thinks she can find us again when we arrive on Delta. We went to drop our bags with the curbside check-in and the man asked where we were heading. “Montreal,” Sharon replied. “No,” the man corrected, “Where are you flying through on your way to Montreal.” “We’re flying direct,” Sharon answered. “That can’t be,” the man observed. United doesn’t fly to Montreal from here.” We showed him our tickets. “See,” he said. “United sold you the ticket but your flight is on Air Canada.” We’d been dropped off at terminal 3 and I was so thankful that the next words out of his mouth weren’t, “You can’t get there from here.” We were at the start of Terminal 3 and had to walk two thirds of the way to the other end.



It was Sharon’s idea that we should get the TSA Pre-Check Authorization and pay the $85 to have our very own “Known Traveler Number”. We’d often get selected for the pre-check anyway; but, not always. It is nice to go through the line and keep your shoes and belt on though. We had to take the tram over to terminal D and eventually settled in at our gate. Other than a Starbuck’s there weren’t many other places over there to get any food or drinks, at least not ones open this early in the morning. I decided to try an iced chili mocha, and it was quite good. We passed the next couple of hours on our phones. Sharon chose seats next to an in-floor outlet; although, there was a charging station next to the Starbucks. We were in Zone 3; but, it didn’t look like this flight was going to be very full.



We were seated one row from the back with Sharon in a middle and me in an aisle seat. The flight is about half full. There was a pretty dark haired stewardess nearby who said something in French, and then said it again and I realized that she was talking to me. I whispered to Sharon, “There’s a pretty stew talking in French to me.” Then I added, “I think she likes me.” Sharon just looked down here nose at me and in a quizzical tone said, “She just wants you to raise your arm rest.” I forgot that Sharon speaks French. Awkward.



The plane reached 10,000 feet without event, which was nice after having watched “Sully” the first week that it was in theatres. I’m not sure that Lake Mead would work as well as the Hudson. Since we hadn’t gotten breakfast, we both decided to order something for our lunch. Sharon chose a can of Pringles and what the stewardess said was “Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup.” I ordered myself “The Trio”, consisting of an appetizer, entrée and drink. I got the pretzel crisps with hummus, the spicy chicken wrap with Sriracha mayo, and the bottle of San Pellegrino; and, as an afterthought, I also ordered the soup. When the soup came, is should have more accurately been called Ramen, or what I now call the “Campbell’s Chicken (Flavored) Chewy Noodle Soup”. Kids, don’t try eating this soup with the tiny (and I do mean tiny) demitasse spoon the airline offered. It requires a spoon. I think the technique is called “Spear and Twirl”. Why am I reminded of the “Poke and Fold” bingo cards we have to look forward to on our sea days ahead. I remember a recent weekend that we sprung my mom from “The Home” and played a round of Bingo at the local casino; although they require you to daub (no poke and fold there). Sharon perfected the technique of eating some of the chewy noodles with a Pringles to let her gum it enough to swallow. I guess the Pringles provides enough abrasiveness to get the job done.



Our approach to Montreal seemed to be quite windy with some near ground yawing but the pilot managed a perfect touch down, bringing the flaps up before we realized that we’d landed. With a half full plane, it didn’t take us long to disembark, and as soon as we had we realized that we weren’t in Las Vegas any longer. The crisp air greeted us in the jet way. We quickly cleared passport control and customs, and found ourselves a taxi. Our ride to the Sheraton was in rush hour traffic, impeded by the construction that was obviously in progress. We were lucky I guess. Beginning next Monday, the freeway will be narrowed to just one lane into and out of downtown. And it will be this way for two years! The driver gave us some suggestions of what we should see tomorrow, given Sharon’s desire to see Notre Dame. He said you must go up the hill to the viewing point to see the panorama of the Montreal skyline. And St Patrick’s Dome is near there, the second largest dome in the world (after the dome we saw last year in Rome). He also recommended Schwartz’s Deli for lunch.



We had an easy check-in at the Sheraton; although, Sharon was a little miffed that I’d left our Sheraton paperwork with the taxi driver. Sharon chose some preferred customer offer from Sheraton to get the free Wi-Fi. The ride up in the elevator was not to be missed. We’d caught “The Express” and we went from “1” to “28” in well under ten seconds. I’m really going to have to time this because we both agreed that it was well worth the price of an E-Ticket. We got our bags to the room and called Sharon’s sister.



We shortly met downstairs and walked across the street to Le Medusa, an Italian restaurant that the concierge had recommended. Erin nodded approvingly (or perhaps it was knowingly) of my red hat. As we were getting ready to leave the hotel to walk to the restaurant someone from the hotel asked everyone standing there to move to the side since they had a VIP coming. He said it wouldn't take very long and several minutes and many police security people later we were on our way. The only thing we heard was that it was a minister but not the prime minister. There were cops on motorcycles all over outside too. The restaurant featured minestrone soup, which Erin favored and ordered for her entrée. I had the pasta Faggioli and Dennis had a mixed salad and the ladies watched us eat. Sharon had a filet for her dinner, Dennis pasta dish with meat sauce and I had the cannelloni (which were as good as I’ve had anywhere). Although the gelato looked very inviting in the entryway, none of us had room for dessert. Near the end of the meal Erin noticed the sign for the restrooms that were downstairs. You'll need to see the photo to understand why I'm mentioning it. It was a great start to our time in Montreal.

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