6/15/16,
“The Parting of the Ways”
Heathrow
Airport, England, United Kingdom (LHR)
Last night,
I wrote about what made us open the cover or step into the movie theatre, but
what about that familiar sinking feeling when we reached the parting of the
ways each year (the last chapter in Goblet of Fire was even called that). Harry and his friends had said goodbye, and
it had come time for us to say goodbye to Hogwarts, goodbye to Harry. We’d reach a blank page in the book, or the
familiar end credits music would play, and we’d close the cover or walk out of
the theatre, knowing we’d have to wait another two years for the next
adventure. We could read or watch it
again (I usually did), but, the story was over, and we’d have to wait for the
next one.
Only J.K. Rowling could elicit
that reaction from us. Game of Thrones
comes close, but Harry Potter was an event unlike anything else. In the two years that we would read
fanfiction and discuss theories on the message boards and argue about
“shipping”, it was the moment we had been waiting for, either eight hours with
book or two hours in a theatre, and it was over with the parting of the
ways. Then we’d have to wait another two
years before we went back to Hogwarts.
My reader should realize at this point, that that opening was a metaphor
for this trip and last night in particular.
Typically, this would be the point in my trip where I write what I call
my triumphant airport entry. Getting
ready to fly home, I would write about all successful adventures of my trip and
rave about a new country I have discovered.
Today, that will not be the case.
Of the entire trip, five days, there were only three highlights, driving
through the Welsh countryside (including visiting King Edward’s castle), my
night in Nottingham, and, of course, last night. This was the biggest trip I have undertaken
this year, so there should have been dozens of highlights, not just three.
By and large, the trip was a failure. I’m not used to saying that. I will return to England later in this year,
and I will visit the sites I missed out on this week. That is fine.
I will take any excuse to return to England. London is, without a doubt, other than New
York, my favorite city in the world. I
have fallen into a familiar pattern with these trips, now. Fly into London, spend a night at The Savoy,
do something else, and then fly home.
Last time it was Scotland, this time Wales. Next time Northern England, though, if I can
get the extra vacation time approved, I will incorporate it into my Thanksgiving
trip and stop here on the way to Doha.
There is so much that I love about Britain, the way they talk, the fast
driving, even if the roundabouts annoy the bloody hell out of me, the food, the
drinks, the architecture, everything.
Wales is probably going to make all sorts of top five lists when I
evaluate it. I just wish I had better
enjoyed my time there, though, if Andorra is any guide, I will remember the
highlights and not the lowlights.
From
the time I got into the collision Saturday morning, until the time I reunited
with my friend Tuesday afternoon, it was quite possibly one of the five worst
trips of my life. Only the beauty of
Wales and the history of Nottingham was a saving grace. Not only did I lose out on the fulfillment
value of three World Heritage Sites, I simply wasn’t enjoying myself. It was a miserable time. It seemed like everything was going wrong,
and I just wanted to get back to London and reunite with my friend.
We hadn’t seen each other in two years, and
our reuinion of six hours was far too short, especially given the
circumstances. The play was great, but
the play alone would not have been worth flying to London and taking two and a
half vacation days. In a few days, I
will have forgotten about the adversity of this trip and remember how much I
enjoyed the highlights, such as they were.
Then, I’ll book my next trip to England, and I’ll have figured out how
to visit not just the sites I missed this trip, but also all the rest of the
WHS in England.
That trip, especially if
I do the 9-day Thanksgiving trip, will be one for the record books. That trip will make up for this one. Then, next year, I can do London and Northern
Ireland (it’s always London and …) or London and Northern Scotland, and I can
do Ireland and Northern Ireland as a separate trip. London is only a short flight away, and a room
at The Savoy always calls my name. As I
mentioned previously, I shall return. On
that note, my flight is about to board, so I will close. As is my tradition, I will treat the return
journey in its entirety when I am ready to close out the trip.
En route,
NYC Taxi 9G65
And now, the
return journey. I have no more
reflections to add, and I will soon be at the office and back to my daily
routines. All that is left is the
formality of recounting the return journey.
After I closed last night, I had planned to pull an all-nighter, but
driving to the airport on zero sleep seemed a supremely stupid idea. I wound up getting three hours of sleep,
which was plenty to allow me to drive to the airport without incident. I even had time to stop for gas on the way,
which didn’t want to fill up all the way for some reason.
I checked in and found a row that was almost
entirely empty, which would be great if it held up. I made it through security with no hassle,
other than a rescreen because I didn’t put my whiskey bottles in a plastic
baggie. I then went to the waiting area,
where, just like the last time I was at Heathrow, I wrote a very untriumphant
airport entry and then headed to the boarding area.
My row remained almost empty, giving me three
seats to myself (well, four seats for two people). I fell asleep and woke up in time for
“breakfast”, which was really more like dinner food. I went back to sleep and, when I woke up, wrote
my personal companion entry, which I neglected last night.
Then they served lunch, which was more like a
traditional lunch. It was a chicken
Caesar wrap with chips (or crisps as the Brits call them). We soon landed, and, when I got off the plane,
I was surprised to see three CBP officers in the Jetway. There were more officers at the checkpoint,
too, than usual, maybe twice as many.
I
had no issue and was soon outside. I was
waiting for the bus when a taxi driver offered me a discounted ride back to the
city. I gladly accepted, and he even let
me smoke in the back with the windows open.
Once I got into the cab, I sat down, where I proceeded to light up a
Punch and write this entry, which I now close, along with closing out this
trip. Next stop: Maine for my annual
June trip there.
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