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Up at 7 and start our last bit of packing. There's a heavy mist outside (typical English weather) and the Olympic men's marathon on TV. I can't believe how fast and smooth these guys are after 1 1/2 hours of running. A Kenyan, two Ethiopians, and a Brit are ahead. But the Brit drops back. The Kenyan pulls ahead. Man, he's led the whole time we've been watching.
We have another "fry up" breakfast. And meet a friendly young woman from Indiana who is also flying home today. So we eat, clean up, and all ride to Gatwick together. She even helps us with our luggage (all the trolleys are taken) and gets us to the phone to call American Airlines for assistance.
Great, no answer. Oh well. I find a trolley, and we take the moving sidewalk into the terminal, then walk to the American counter. We have plenty of time, so we take it. We chat with a couple from North Anglia who are going to visit a sister in Fayetteville. The young man at passport control and the people at the desk are very nice; they even bring a chair for Mom while I handle the business. And they direct us to the assistance booth where Mom can get a "lorry" to the gate.
I want to shop Duty Free to see if there are any good buys on single malt Scotch. But the lorry will either go directly from here (when the plane is in), through the security check, and on to the gate or pick us up on the other side of security and go directly to the gate. I can't convince them to take us through, drop us off, and get us when the plane is in to go to the gate. And Mom is certainly not up to standing in the humongous lines for security. They swear that I can leave her here and go shop, and that they will bring her through as soon at the gate opens. Honest. Cross their hearts. So I go to shop.
No good buys. It's interesting how many single malts we can find at our ABCs (state liquor stores) now, when there were about two five years ago. And no free samples, either, today. And now the plane is late. I can't go back through security to Mom, she's not coming in, and I start panicking. I call assistance; they swear everything is fine.
OK, the plane is in, the gate is open, they are boarding - and still no Mom. I call again. Everything is still fine, and they get upset at me! I have to go to the gate, without Mom. We call from there; they can't find Mom or the lorry, and everyone else is on the plane! I explain that, although we say that we lost Dad 3 years ago, we didn't misplace him. And I cannot go home and tell the family that I really did lose Mom!
Finally, the lorry arrives with Mom. Some woman had commandeered it and even tried to remove Mom's walker to make room for her packages! What a send-off. And now we have a crying child behind us. The mother notes that the kid doesn't like wearing a seat belt. Heck she should be in a safety seat, not just a seat belt at age 2. And now we have a long wait to leave the gate, then again on the runway. And, on top of everything, we have to use a customs form written in Italian because they ran out of the English-language ones!! Finally, they announce that they just discovered a problem with the assistance lights, so we'll have no movies or music available. The stewardess admits that they knew of this problem before we took off. Beam me home, Scotty!
At long, everlovin' last, we're over land. Canada, New England, New York City, down the East Coast. And home. It is so wonderful to see Chuck, and fall into his arms, at RDU.
 Home |
 My family |
 Chuck |
 Fergie |
It's been a wonderful adventure, and a real pilgrimage. But I'm glad to be back home.
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