"Why can't I go in that queue?" I asked the security agent. "Because you are not pre qualified ma'am", was the answer. I was quite adamant. "Yes, I am", I argued. "No you are not", was the firm reply. I was not. For the first time in I can't remember how long, I had not been pre-qualified and had to go through the 'other' queue. I did not object, but I did notice a difference in 'service'. Having to take out my laptop was not a great inconvenience, nor was taking off my shoes, but I did get rather befuddled due to the surprise. Walking through the x-ray machine, and out the other side, releasing my hair from its clip as the female guard wished to see if I was hiding an armoured convoy in my head, (sorry for the flippancy, but I had just gone through an x-ray machine,) I wondered where my boarding pass could have gone! Samantha was standing by the barriers, mouthing something to me. I could not understand what she was saying. My bags came out and my phone was ringing. "The guard has your boarding pass". Not knowing which guard, I alerted the person checking the x-rayed bags. "Ma'am", I said, as she turned my way, and then turned back. "Ma'am", I repeated, less confidently, as the word does not flow as it does with the natives. "Ma'am", I said for a third time, with rather more urgency. She turned. I explained that the guard had my boarding pass, and she shrugged as if there was nothing she could do. "Can you ask him to give it to me?" I said, not expecting to have a positive answer. Reverting to the original strategy of ignoring me, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I walked forward towards the man with whom I assumed was my boarding pass. "Get back", was the recommendation. I assumed it was a recommendation as he had not yet asked why I was approaching him. Samantha was still doing a mime at the edge of the barrier, doing her best to let me know where the boarding pass had been placed. It was upon a flat topped pole. "Excuse me", I said in a very polite voice. "Get back", came the recommendation once again. "But my boarding pass...", I said in my very polite voice. "Get back", came the recommendation for a third time. "But..". The next "Get back", was perceived as an order, rather than my previous understanding of the same phrase over the past few minutes. What possessed me to ignore the orders of the security guard, for whom I normally have the utmost regard, is beyond me, but I called across to a fellow passenger. "Yes, you", I said, still politely, but with an air of authority. "Get back", came the bark. "Yes, there, on the top", was my next instruction. "Get back" came the snarl. "Thank you", I said as I received my boarding pass, and then I smiled, and waved it at the security guard, who had not been particularly sympathetic with my predicament. He was suddenly lost for words, although he looked as if he would like to say many!
Waving cheerio to my daughter, who had been looking on with amusement written across her face, I continued on to the lounge. "How are you?" was the question asked by the lady by the reception. I assumed she was being polite and really didn't want to know my disposition, so chose not to answer in a negative fashion.
My flight was on time, and my seat was not challenged. I sat by the window and waived cheerio to Austin as I headed, at several thousand feet across to the fourth most populated city of the United States, where I deplaned and walked through to the next lounge. "How are you?", was the question asked by the lady at the reception. Once again, I assumed she was being polite and replied that I was "Good, thank you".
I called Dana to let him know that I was aboard, and as I was about to say farewell, a rather abrupt (yes, I always get them) female air steward came up to me and said, "Do you wanna drink?". The emphasis was on the third word, as if I had been asked earlier and not made up my mind. A little too loud, but this time with the intention of letting her know, I told Dana, "We are off. Why do I always get the one that snaps!" I smiled as sweetly as I could and asked for a club soda. It was brought to me with a smile.
"Can you take a picture of the Unicorn I made for Lilly?" said Samantha as I called to say I was on the 'big' plane. I told her that I would take a couple of photos before I handed over the sparkling crocheted horned horse. As the conversation continued I realised that she meant 'on the plane', and struggled with the concept. A 'well built' man (and I do not mean one who has attended the gym on a regular basis) was sitting next to me, and people were walking along the aisles, trying to get to their seats. The stuffed animal was in my hand luggage, which had been neatly placed in the overhead bin, which had been closed as it was full. Feeling rather less than delighted, I excused myself, opened the bin, managed to pull down the case and exhumed the creature. It sat in my chair, it sat on the top above my television, and I then approached an air steward. "Would you mind....?" I asked, and then explained that the unicorn would be accompanied by a story of its travels. Fortunately, he agreed and the picture was taken, with all the other female air crew looking on, giggling.
Once in the air, I enjoyed my dinner before going to sleep for a few hours, and then got up before breakfast was served. We landed about three quarters of an hour early and deplaned rather quickly.
Once through immigration, and customs, I headed out to the lifts, where I managed to get to my required floor on the first attempt. Amazingly enough, there was a van waiting for my car rental company, and he took me on a magical mystery tour around the terminals before we ended up at the 'home base'. "You rented a fiat 500. Will that be okay. You have a lot of luggage. I like you nails!" said the girl, all in one breath. I replied with a "Yes; yes; I do but there is only me. Thank you. I had them done for my trip!" After signing a couple of waiver forms, and agreements, I was told to pick any car in zone one. I did not pick the Fiat, but instead chose the same model as my mother has, albeit a different colour. With my 'damage' sheet filled with arrows and crosses, marking the various scratches and marks that I had found after a meticulous inspection, I went on my way.
Arriving at my mother's a few minutes after midday, I was rather glad that the flight had come in early. Once unpacked, fed (which was totally unnecessary,) and cleaned up, I layed down for a couple of minutes, which turned into half an hour, and slept quite soundly.
I was awakened to a phone call, from Steph, to say she was on her way home. I drove, sensibly, across to the next town to see my grandsons, and found the journey to take almost as long as the flight, although it obviously did not! Ollie was a little confused as he could not understand why I was here, being that he is coming to visit me in a few weeks. "But I was coming to your house, in an aeroplane", he said, quite mournfully. After his mum and I explained that I had to come and see him on his birthday, and then he could come to my house, he seemed to be a little more settled.
My first week has been quite busy. Catching up with family, and running across from one town to the other to see 'the boys', I am ready for week two. I took my great niece, Poppy, for a walk with her nana, (aka my sister,) and spent time with my niece, Emma. We met on Friday at Parent's Paradise, where Ollie and his other grandma came on later. We all went into the maze of 'softplay'
and took it in turns sliding down the large slides. However, I was the only one who was talked into going in the twisty tubey slide that is a little claustrophobic and tight! Dana and Samantha are holding down the fort, and although insisting that I have a nice time and not worry about work, have discussed most of the dynamics throughout the week!
I received a call from the car hire company, asking how I was enjoying the vehicle. "This is Enterprise", the caller said. I was a little confused as to why they were calling. I did not book the car through that particular company, but know that occasionally they work under the 'same roof'. I asked why they were calling, and the very polite young man told me that it was because I had booked a Fiat and taken another model. Feeling a little vulnerable, I explained that the lady at the desk had told me that I could take any car in zone one. "Oh I see, and what colour was it?" The list of soft profane words that omitted from my mouth, over the airwaves, to my son, were many! He had managed to scam me rather well. "I did not book with Enterprise", I said, without using any alternative language, and he admitted he could not remember the car rental company from whom I hired the car. However, his job was done!
With Belgian buns, crisps, (chips for my trans-Atlantic brethren,) large sliced white bread and Branston Pickle (no translation possible, I am afraid) I am enjoying a culinary difference. The change in pace is quite noticeable, as I feel as if I am only on day three when I have been here almost a week, and I am still waiting for the weekend to arrive on Sunday afternoon!
Today was my elder grandson's third birthday, and I watched my son and his friends with their children, interact and chat about their kids' milestones. My son's father and I looked on with pride as our boy took his boys and enjoyed the party like a parent should.
I arrived back at mum's at the same time that my nephew arrived, with his family, and auntie Tracie was commissioned to French plait her great-niece's hair, just as I did her aunt when she was eight!
Next week will be a little different. I have am seeing a few friends, catching up with my childhood pals, and no doubt there will be a lot of reminiscing and laughter. All shall be revealed, I am sure, in ...... another story!
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