On the one hand, it doesn’t take weeks to do this like it did, just a few generations ago.
But then again, this is one long day.
We caught a cab from the hotel to the airport, which is just outside of Rome. There is a fixed fee rule for cabs in Rome, so at a certain point you just pay the maximum. The hotel called us a cab and we were picked up by a guy in a suit and a Mercedes Benz van, which seemed a bit odd, but the price was right.
And riding to the airport — rather than walking to the train station, fighting luggage, exiting the train and then figuring out the airport — was absolutely the right choice. Our flight out of Rome was around 10 a.m. We left a bit late, but with no problem. From Rome to London is just over two hours. We had a small layover at Heathrow, but our plane couldn’t find a place to park. So we waited on the tarmac at London. And then we moved to another space.
We breezed through the first two stages of airport hassle with great ease, but I realized that was foreshadowing.
British airport security operates under a model of dispassion and inefficiency to which the TSA aspires. Somehow we packed a snow globe in the carry on luggage. You couldn’t just see that through the x-ray machine, but have an hourly worker go through every nook and cranny of the luggage.
With a grim, humorless determination she found compartments we didn’t even know existed in our suitcase. The snow globe, which was for Kelly, got left behind and is no doubt making someone in London very happy tonight. (Sorry, Kel!) This story goes on and on, but the big concern was that our plane back to the U.S. was running out of patience. We’d actually gotten off the plane in Rome with only 10 minutes to spare before our connection. That layover had suddenly evaporated.
But, someone with British Airways said, our next flight was delayed as well. We stayed in security — not in the line, but waiting to go through our luggage — for about 20 minutes. And then when we had to catch an airport shuttle. And then we had to hustle down the terminal. And the plane was still sitting there, patiently waiting for us. The crew were still wearing their smiles.
We got on the plane, they buttoned up and we took off. For our in-flight entertainment this plane offered an on-demand video system. I watched Robin Williams’ latest HBO special.
When you laugh out loud on a plane people tend to give you long looks.
So I toned it down a bit, following up with Sherlock Holmes. It was decent enough, but ultimately forgettable in that special way that comes with a lot of Robert Downey Jr.’s movies. I suspect the inevitable Moriarty film will be a worthy sequel.
I watched I Love You Phillip Morris, which hasn’t even been released in the U.S. yet. Jim Carrey is brilliant and this is probably one of the better comedies of the year. Just watch the trailer.
If it ever gets into the U.S., and you like off-the-wall dark comedies, you’ll probably enjoy it.
I finished the flight — yes, the trip takes this long — with Invictus. Well, I almost finished Invictus. Don’t spoil it for me! They were in the final match, just after the stirringesque Matt Damon speech to rally the troops when the flight crew began making their landing announcements. They turn the screens off for the PA system, and they were a bit wordy and redundant. I believe I could have made it if they’d made just one less anouncement.
And now I’ll never know what happens.
It was still late afternoon when we landed in Atlanta. We, as Americans, have been in four countries in the last two weeks. The one the most difficult to enter has been our own. You land and grab your checked bag way too easily. You make it through passport control where a nice gentleman welcomes us home. We are instructed to drop off our checked bag for another inspection. We are instructed to go through another set of metal detectors.
I asked one of the TSA agents the logic, just to hear the answer. It is, of course, unreasonable to assume that this TSA agent knows where I’ve been, but I’ve passed through two airport security stages today and haven’t left either controlled environment. Basically, the answer goes, is that they don’t trust the security at London or Rome (take that Allies). They don’t know where we’ve been, the “standards” of those airports or the “quality” of the security there. So, TSA figures, you’ll just pass through security one more time.
We walked through metal detectors to exit the airport.
And this will sound sarcastic — but after 17 days in Europe and Asia Minor and having compiled the Small Things I’m Looking Forward to At Home list and a day’s worth of airports I mean it to sound sincere — I love this country.
We finally made it out of the airport, having worked out this security issue and realizing, yes, it makes sense. The downside being that the airport’s design and not the policy itself. The TSA agent’s charming answer, though, “So we can keep you safe,” still annoys.
Our friend brought our car. She lives on the opposite side of the town, which could be an extra hour or more in Atlanta, but she set us up so we could head home straight from the airport. We have thoughtful friends.
My goal was to get across the state line before darkness, which we just barely did. My thought was that when the sun disappeared I’d start dragging, which I did. Fortunately we only had an hour to go. The last bit of road was no trouble. We made back to Birmingham, Ala. from Rome, Italy in 22 hours. I unpacked, threw the first load of clothes in the washing machine and, now, I’m going to sleep for a really long time.
