Ah, the Zurich
airport. OK, I was flying on points. (Lots of points.) I have my
points with American Airlines – which is good because they partner
with British Air, and not so good because they don’t partner with
Alitalia, or anyone else who flies into and out of Sicily. I lie.
American Airlines partners with Air Berlin, which has one flight out
a day out of the Catania airport (only during tourist season). And
it goes to Zurich. Where I could then connect to a British Air
flight to London, overnight in London, and connect to another British
Air flight to Los Angeles.
While British Air
gives you a massive carry-on allowance, Alitalia (which I flew into
Sicily) limits you to 8 kg. Air Berlin limits you to 6 kg. And
that’s if your lucky – some economy class Air Berlin tickets
allow for no carry-on at all, a factoid which made me think
that Air Berlin was the equivalent of that Irish airline that offered
standing room (well, leaning) on its short flights. Bargain
Basement is what I’m getting at here. This was confirmed,
somewhat, when I arrived at the airport and found that Air Berlin had
all of two check-in agents (and no self check-in terminals) for its
flight. Good thing I got to the airport early; I spent most of my
time in line at the Air Berlin desk.
They were actually
pretty cool with me on the carry-on. After all of my concern to get
the damn thing down to 6 kg, the agent just gave it the “yeah,
that’ll fit” visual appraisal, and sent me on my way. What was
exciting was what they did with my checked bag. They originally
checked it all the way through to LA. When I suggested that I might
need my stuff in London, it required the attention of both
gate agents to figure out how to check my bag only partway through.
(To the annoyance, I am certain, of everyone else waiting in the
check-in line.) I then told them, “Never mind, check it all the
way through,” and broke in there to retrieve my toothbrush,
toothpaste, and mouthwash from the “bathroom bag” in my
suitcase.)
….. Oh hell, have
I blogged about the mouthwash? OK, my dentist put me on some
mineral-rebuilding mouthwash, which has the good sense to be tasty,
so I’m actually using it. I had a set of nice little 3-ounce
nalgene travel bottles, so I filled one of them with the mouthwash.
Now, the nalgene bottles had good, tight screw-on caps. They also
came with some spare squeezy dispenser caps. I replaced the screw-on
cap with the screw-on dispenser cap, and packed it in my bathroom
bag. This was a mistake. The screw-on cap doesn’t leak, but the
dispense cap does. (In future: pack it with the screw-on cap and
just take the dispenser cap along with it.) At our first stop in
Italy I noticed the problem. I stopped in every “Farmacia” I
could find, but nobody sold little travel bottles. I didn’t even
have a spare baggy for it, so, in every city, I ended up wrapping the
mouthwash in a shower cap – then tossing the mouthwash-filled
shower cap in the next hotel, and wrapping it in a new one for the
next city. We asked our tour guide if she had any idea where we
could get more travel bottles – other than the Farmacia, she did
not. But, in one city, she stopped in the Farmacia before I could
get to it, and proudly presented me with …
… a urine sample
tube. Look, it’s sterile, you can put liquid in it, and it has a
cap. A pretty good cap, too, I reckon, on the theory that nobody
wants to spill urine all over, well, anything. That night, I
transferred some mouthwash to the urine sample tube. It only took
about two uses of mouthwash, but lowering the quantity in the travel bottle
made it leak somewhat less.
So, fast forward
back to the Air Berlin desk at the Catania airport, when I’m
removing my toothbrush, toothpaste, and my tube of “blue pee” and
putting them in my carry-on (and my “carry-on liquids bag.”) I
tell the agents at the desk to go ahead and check my bag through to
L.A., but now they can’t. They’ve realized that I’m
overnighting in London, and apparently, the system now doesn’t want
to leave my bag overnight somewhere in the depths of Heathrow. It
finally gets all sorted out – I’ll have my luggage in London
(good thing, too, as I’d forgotten to retrieve the deodorant) and
they can go back to helping the irate line.
And then I make it
to Zurich. (Zurich is not on the Euro, a fact of which I was
unaware. Took me some time to figure out what the exchange rate is
for Swiss Francs, so I knew how much I was being overcharged. Also
hoped like hell that I’d told my bank that I’d be in Switzerland,
so that they didn’t freeze my credit card the moment I bought that
sippin’ chocolate.) I was in the airport for a couple hours,
during which time I was on a mission – for gloves. (A scarf I
could do without, but I totally needed gloves to get through my
planned wanderings in London.) I found gloves in the “Tie Rack”
store. (Scarves too – but these looked like the pashminas you
could get on the street for 3 for $10, and I’ll be damned if I’m
spending $40 for one.) But gloves were a necessity. They had a
bunch of wool gloves, and I found what looked like the cheapest pair.
I went up to the saleslady and said, with no shame whatsoever, that
I was looking for “the least expensive pair of gloves in this
airport” and asked if these were it. She pulled them up on the
computer and, indeed, they were the least expensive in the store.
Then she gave me 25% off! I’m not really sure why she did this –
the store had signs indicating 25% off if you buy 35 francs worth of
stuff, which the gloves were not, but she gave me the discount
anyway, bless her heart. (Go Switzerland!)
My flight was set
to leave Zurich … well, it doesn’t really matter when we were set
to leave, but we were set to land in London at 4:15. This was key.
I had a theatre ticket for 7:30. I’d timed it out – if I left
Heathrow for central London by about 6:15, I should make it. Train
out of Heathrow leaves every 15 minutes, takes 20 minutes, another 20 minutes for the underground, a few minutes to walk
to the theatre, a small cushion – yeah, 6:15 ought to do it. Of
course, between landing and leaving for central London, I’d have to
get through Immigration, get my bag, clear Customs, run to the
airport hotel, check in at the hotel, run up to my room, leave my
stuff, and run back to Heathrow. (With a bathroom break in there
somewhere.) Two hours should surely be enough time, but when you’re
relying on Immigration officials and baggage handling, anything could
happen.
Or your flight from
Zurich could be delayed. By about an hour. Now things were tight –
we were to land at 5:15, which gave me just an hour to do all that
stuff. I thought about cancelling the theatre ticket (as if
Ticketmaster would give me my money back) but since it was still
theoretically do-able, I decided to risk it.
Plane landed; I was
sitting near the front of the plane, so I beat the crowd to
Immigration. (My Business Class seat (lots and lots of points) should have entitled me to the
“Fast Track” lane at Immigration, but the lane was closed. No
problem, though, there was little wait at the normal lanes.) The
nice Immigration officer stamped my passport right quick, and sent me
off to baggage claim. No bags were yet coming down the carousel, so
I took the ol’ bathroom break in baggage claim, figuring it would
save me time at the hotel later. I was a bit nervous as I saw all
the bags with “Business Class Priority” tags go by, without my
bag appearing. Apparently, in all the confusion about whether to
check my bag all the way through, Air Berlin had neglected to put on
the Priority tag. But, eventually, the bag appeared. I threw it on
my little baggage trolley and went in search of the hotel.
Let me explain how
carefully I planned this. There are two hotels at Heathrow, and I
had checked which terminal my flight arrived into, and made a
reservation at the hotel attached to said terminal. Having found it
(a bit of confusion there, but I’d read some details on an internet
message board), I ran in. I outran another woman to the Reception
desk. She was wearing a black coat and had a white scarf around her
head. As I outran her, I was thinking, “Man, I hope I’m not
outrunning a nun.” Of course, after having spent a very amusing
dinner with the Catholic priest who had been unwilling to embarrass
the dude sitting next to him by pointing out that said dude had taken
his (the priest’s) bread plate by mistake, I figured that if she
was a nun, she’d probably forgive me.
Got checked in,
found room, tossed stuff in room. (Found underground card.) I was
heading back to the airport at just before 6:00. I might make this!
Made it to the
Heathrow Express area and found some guy unsuccessfully messing with
the self-ticketing machines. The next train was leaving in four
minutes and there was an open agent at the service desk, so I bought
my ticket from him. By now the train was leaving in three minutes.
Agent told me “you’ll have to hurry.” I hurried. I tore down
there and jumped on the train. Time to spare.
I would arrive at
Paddington station before 6:30, which was terrific, as it
should only take about 15 minutes to get to the theatre. (I checked
using the free wi-fi on the Heathrow Express.) Bakerloo underground
line would get me there in 14 minutes; barring that, the Circle line
would get me there in 20. With all the time to spare, I bought a
to-go meat pasty at the station and looked around (in vain) for a
cheap pashmina seller. By about 6:45, I moseyed into the underground
station.
And discovered the
Bakerloo line was closed.
So was the Circle
line.
This was bad. I
stared at the underground map (with big, important pieces missing
from it) and figured out a somewhat roundabout way to get where I was
going. Lots of folks in the station were doing the same – nobody really
knew how to get anywhere (those were not the only line closures –
just the only ones affecting me). Found my way onto the first train
– I’d have to change trains at Earl’s Court station – which
is both (a) out of my way; and (b) a station I’ve never been able
to figure out.
Oh, and my train
car was filled with zombies. Oh, right. Halloween weekend.
I get off at the
zoo that is Earl’s Court. Six platforms with nobody knowing where
the hell they’re going. I never ask for directions if I can help in, but I actually
asked some people where a train was headed as I was about to jump on
it on faith – and this would have been a bad move. I finally saw
the signs that enabled me to get a handle on which platform I needed,
and then found the right train. Checking my watch pretty much every two minutes as the train made its way to my destination.
I got off the train
right near the theatre at 7:15. At which time it started raining.
(Of course it did. I’d left my rain hat and umbrella in the
room, as weather.com had said “cold,” not “rainy.”) There’s
nothing for it – I just put my head down and walked right out into
it. It wasn’t too bad. Got my ticket and settled into my seat with
a good 12 minutes to spare. Victory!
Of course, I had to
repeat the whole thing in reverse headed back. More zombies on my
train. (Full marks to the Natalie Portman Black Swan zombie, who had
the eyebrows perfect, and the Joker zombie, who actually
didn’t need additional white face paint to make himself a zombie.)
Back at the hotel,
I had to completely repack all my luggage. (Again: grateful that
Air Berlin did not check my checked luggage all the way through. I’d
bought some olive oil in the Catania duty free – which is fine in your
carry-on as long as you’re connecting flights within the secured
zone, but since I’d left the airport for the night, I was pretty
sure my way-bigger-than-3-ounces bottle of olive oil had to be
relocated into checked baggage.)
And my urine sample
bottle full of mouthwash? Leaked.
Final comment for
the curious – I mentioned (a couple posts ago) being sent back to
the Lounge as my flight home was delayed for some sort of Engineering
issue. The issue, the pilot ultimately explained, had to do with the
bathrooms – and, as he pointed out, on a ten-hour flight, limited
bathroom usage changes from a “convenience” issue to a “safety”
one. They’d stopped boarding in the middle of the boarding process
as they isolated the issue down to the lavs near the boarding door,
and couldn’t fix it with all the passengers coming in. So, those
already on the plane had to sit and wait on the plane, while those
not-yet-boarded were given the run of the terminal, or sent back to
the lounge.
And I’m finishing
up the text of these entries from the flight home – so’s I can
post them upon arrival. And now: sleep.
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