Last, but not Least

Now that we are back in the US, a couple of Great Britain experiences are worth recounting:
#1
With recent terror threats and anticipating heightened security, we left for Heathrow airport early to get home. Rather than take the "tube" to catch a train for the airport, the front desk suggested a taxi. For 2 people, it wouldn't be that much more, and we wouldn't have to drag luggage up and down stairs, etc. So we got up at 5 to catch a taxi by 6 to get to Heathrow by 7 to catch a flight at 9:15. That would put us 2 hours + early. Everything went as planned. The taxi got us their a little early, and cost 40 pounds, as promised. 40 pounds is $80, but you just shouldn't think about such things. Heading for the departure entrance, we stopped to look at the tickets for flight and gate information. That's when we discovered we were at the wrong airport! We were scheduled to fly out of Gatwick airport, not Heathrow!!

In a panic, we ran back to the taxi dropoff, found a taxi just disgorging its passengers and pleaded for help to get us to Gatwick. "We're at the wrong airport. We need to get to Gatwick. I only have 40 pounds. Can you get us there in time?" The cabbie told us, "No problem, we accept VISA." That was our first clue... The taxi ride would take the better part on an hour, but if we hit no traffic, we would probably make it. Luckily, traffic was moderate, but it did take the better part of an hour. When we arrived, the meter read 125 pounds. You can do the math. The taxi ride from the hotel to the airport cost $330! Even though you shouldn't, it's hard not to think about such things.

#2
Security at Gatwick was fairly efficient. As you wait in line to check baggage, they have security folks with wireless computers on rolling carts asking security questions as the line is moving. "Did you pack your own bags?" "Has anyone asked you to carry a package?" and so forth. Pretty routine. The lady that put us through the security checklist looked English, but I found her accent hard to understand. "Do you have any webphones?" she asked. Puzzled, I gave her a blank look. "Do you have any webphones or sharp objects that could be used as webphones? she repeated. Trying to think of the fancy features my cellphone had, I replied, "I think I have webphone". She retorted, "Not webphones, 'whep-hones'! Do you have any whep-hones!" Rather sheepishly I responded, "Sorry, no weapons..."

It reminded me of the time in Las Vegas when Linda and I were eating at a casino lounge (just passing through, thank you) and the Phillipino waitress came and announced, "Here is your crub shroda". I told her, "No, I ordered a club soda". Linda spewed out her soft drink, began to cry, and about died laughing.

As you can tell, we had a jolly good time.

Dad