Leaving, on a Jet Plane U.K. Trip Day 1a

In Which  Rachel and I Embark On a Long Flight Over the Atlantic Ocean

Day 1 - Friday Oct. 25, 2013-

So begins the adventure I never could have even dreamt I would ever have! Rachel and I...going to the U.K for two weeks, splitting our "holiday" between England and Ireland.

We were both just a little over the top excited to be going overseas. We arrived at Will Rogers Airport 2 1/2 hours before our plane was scheduled to depart. Nothing like being a little early. (in our defense, Rachel and I had read that if you have an overseas flight you need to arrive 3 hours early for customs, etc. So, with that in mind, we were actually a little bit late...) For some reason, I got to go through the short "line"  that didn't make you take your shoes off, x-ray you or pat you down. Without knowing how I did it somehow I pulled off being high priority passenger!! So of course I got through more quickly than Rachel did and so I had to locate the gate she would be coming through. Once we made it through that hurdle, we had a "little" more time to kill  (like 2 more hours!) So we took pictures of ourselves and our traveling companions (Pooh and Tigger) (ok, I took pictures of them and Rachel just endured it/rolled her eyes at me)



I was feeling a little bit giddy as we soared (ok, barreled) (we were in a huge airplane) through the skies. Maybe it was the anticipation that made it so thrilling, maybe it was a slight lack of oxygen or maybe it was the close quarters that made my feet go numb and my toes tingle and my ears pop. Whatever it was, the whole stuffy, painful ears thing  was probably the only part I didn't enjoy. And then the fact I was not too good at sitting still and falling asleep. Maybe I am just not good at sleeping while sitting pretty much straight up. I don't think too many people are good at that, actually.

I had never understood the concept of a red-eye flight until a few hours into this trip. I thought a night flight would be a real good idea because we would be so tired we would just sleep through the long hours of flying. Ummm, no. I don't know if I was just too excited to relax and fall asleep or if I just couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. I did doze on and off but not as much as I had hoped I would!!!

We landed at Heathrow at noon, local time. The first thing we had to do was to get through immigration. Not that we were immigrating or anything but that is the drill. Somehow Rachel and I got separated--Ok, I lost her. I wasn't too organized with the whole ticket/passport/driver's license identification situation. so every time I needed it, I had to dig it out of the safe place I had stashed it. Usually in the bottom of my backpack. sometimes in the zipper section. Sometimes I just carried it around in my hand, thinking I was going to need it again soon. Anyway, she got in line ahead of me. (it wouldn't be the last time)  The way the whole immigration/security thing works is that you stand in a long line and wait until you're called to an immigration officer who checks your paperwork. And grills you for information. Or maybe that was just me. I watched Rachel go through the process very quickly with just a few words to the agent. Not me. I got stuck with Ahmed Askalot. He was decked out in his turban and robe and smiled reassuringly--I think it was meant to be reassuring--at me. I handed him my passport and id. He also wanted to see my plane ticket. He asked why I was in London, how long I was going to be there, if I was traveling alone, who was traveling with me, what we were planning to do, where we were staying, when we were leaving, where we were going next, whether we had return tickets, what I did at home in the states, what my partner i.e. husband  did for a living, whether I liked jello and I can't even remember what all else. He wanted to know where my traveling companion was and why we weren't together at that point. He told me we needed to stay together. He was fairly adamant about this. Actually, extremely adamant. I felt sufficiently reprimanded and rather sheepish by the time he changed the subject. Finally he decided I wasn't a threat to the English government and he initialed my paperwork and let me catch up with Rachel who was watching my progress with bemused interest. I think. Maybe that expression was boredom. Or consternation about why I was becoming such good friends with the immigration agent.

                                                                WELCOME TO ENGLAND!!!