When I was a teenager I used to drive to the Oakland airport with my best friend, Mama Dog. She and I would sit in the car and watch the planes take-off for hours. It was a great escape, dreaming of all the places I would go one day and the wonderful things I would see. To this day, I still find it thrilling to go to the airport, even if it's just to pick-up a friend. Of course airports have changed considerably. I'm not sure if it's allowed to watch the planes take off from the airport anymore with all the added security risks. The last time Tony and I flew the friendly skies was in 1996, pre 9/11/01 (God rest their souls). In '96 it took less than one hour to board your international flight, and the thought of taking your shoes off at check-in was unconscionable.
Yes, flying was much more dignified back then. It was all about YOUR comfort. I remember after being in France for two weeks we were so excited to be going home, that we arrived at the airport in Paris two hours earlier than expected. We were told the x-ray machines were not yet heated up so...they didn't bother x-raying our bags. Why make us wait? My husband was especially glad this happened since he secretly stashed a bunch of "novelty" switch blades in my luggage. "After all, they're less likely to check your bags than mine," he reasoned.
No wonder...now it was 2009 and things have changed A LOT. For one thing, I was told to pack all of my toiletries inside of my checked luggage and not my carry-on bag. "But I always wash-up before I land." I protested. I'll need my Neutrogena face soap, toner, face cream, eye cream, toothbrush, toothpaste, and then there's my hair smoothing cream. "Whatever happened to looking glamorous on the plane?" I asked. I was told to forgo all that and to be prepared to strip for security.
The day before we left for Scotland, I nervously perused the TSA website (Transportation Security Administration) and became vaguely familiar with a confusing concept, simply named 3-1-1. In short, every (1) passenger is allowed to bring a (1) quart-size zip-top bag stuffed with containers that hold (3) ounces or less. So really it should be called 1-1-3, but that's just me. Actually, I was happy to finally use the dozens of adorable little bottles I'd saved over the years.
One aspect of air travel that I was not prepared for in the millennium was the smell of fear and foot odor. Not to mention, walking though various metal detectors barefoot is just gross. Plus, I'll admit that I slowed down the line a little when the TSA girl told me I was not allowed to bring my Cal water bottle onboard, and I'll further admit that I let out a rather audible moan escape my lips when I was told to throw it in the trash. Other than that, I breezed through the metal detector virtually unscathed.
Tony was another story. The man is a harbinger of metal. After several failed attempts to walk through the metal detector, a serious-looking man in a red suit told him to stand still while he slowly ran a wand all over his body, and finally to his neck, where his Saint Christopher hung. Pulling the chain over his head, I could see my husband's hands shaking. My poor honey I thought and instinctually wanted to run to his side, but I was already being pushed forward by the lady with stinky feet behind me - who could care less about anyone's discomfort.
|Our view from the Old Waverley Hotel, |
After the lights dimmed and the same movie came on for the third time, my husband, who has been trained to sleep standing, was snoring while I gabbed with the lady across the isle. She was on her way home and gladly told me where to go and what to see in Scotland. She even drew me a map! We were to encounter this several times in the Land of Tartan. The Scotch are very helpful, friendly people. Later, I was to discover they also had one of the most generous breakfasts in the world: eggs, gigantic pieces of bacon, a variety of freshly made breads to make toast, steel-cut oats, coffees, teas, orange juice and of course haggis - something I had to try but ended up avoiding like the plague. Every hotel in both Scotland and England offered an amazing spread. This was especially appreciated by me since I wake up so hungry, I can eat a wagon wheel!
They say life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. Even thought this trip was to be an unplanned extravaganza, I was so glad I made reservations for our first night in Edinburgh. I didn't want to roam around the city looking like Día de Muertos trying to find a place to rest my frizzy head. When we arrived in Scotland's capital and at the Old Waverley Hotel we wanted to sleep so badly, but we'd learned our lesson years ago to adapt to the new time zone at all cost. So, after showering we tripped around the Royal Mile, where I saw my first Red Telephone Booth. Maybe I was delirious from lack of sleep, but it was thrilling.
After a full day exploring Edinburgh on foot we finally collapsed in our hotel room and slept soundly, until around midnight. Sometimes jet-lag isn't all that bad...