There were wings.
Left the house at about 11pm. Stopping off for a cheeky wee burger on the way away, at McDonalds. From there, we got on the road to Glasgow International Airport.
The drive down was fairly uneventful, the remoteness of Scotland’s highlands was only emphasised by the fact that there was absolutely no radio signal for a good hour or so. Oh, and I say uneventful, there was a big ol’ lorry that’d burst a tire and was half way across our side of the road. Apart from that though.
Once at Glasgow, we parked up and headed inside. Waiting to find out what desk I’d need to check in at. When it came up, we headed down. There was already a fairly big queue, so we joined the back of the right one. Something that was apparently harder for some people than others. A guy had gone to the front of the other one, only to be sent back, cause he wasn’t business class/hadn’t checked in online.
“It’s a fucking disgrace!” – he said. What? That you’re incompetent when it comes to reading signs? — He asked to speak to a manager when he eventually got to the front of the right line, the check-in staff told him where to wait and pretty much laughed it off as soon as he was out of earshot.
Out of all the airport I was in (and I was in four) Glasgow Airport, for some reason, was the hottest. Sitting in the foodcourt area, I was literally sweating. It was dark outside, and in Scotland. Why are you so hot GLA?
Next stop was Amsterdam. I got off the plane and searched for a board to tell me what gate I needed to go to, and whether or not it was boarding. It said the gate was open, so I ran to it. Or walked at quick pace. I’m pretty fat and lazy.
I got there and there were already massive queues, I attempted to stand in it for a while. The queue wasn’t really moving, due to the weird security system they had going on. So I went and sat down.
The set up they had was a set of five or so podiums, with 5 or so security staff. They were taking passengers and sending them to a podium, scanning their passports and then doing the whole “Did you pack all your belongings yourself” routine. It literally took me like… half an hour to move 5 feet in the queue, which is why I went and sat down.
Seeing just how big the queue had gotten though, I decided I was gonna just cut in. Didn’t say anything, just pretended i knew what I was doing and joined the queue at the mid-point. No-one said anything.
Security went fairly well, apart from being told I was going to get “Extra Special Security Attention” — I didn’t, as far as I could tell. I got patted down, that was about the extent of it. But it did leave me worried about the american customs, if Amsterdam were being all SSSS about things.
The flight over was LONG. Not the longest flight I’ve ever taken, but LONG anyway. I got, maybe, 45 mins sleep in total and was sat next to a guy, who I think was dutch, but I couldn’t swear to it. He smelled a bit. Though, to be fair, I probably did too.
Delta wouldn’t stop feeding us. It was like they were trying to fatten us up. First up were snacks. Peanuts or Pretzels? Then Lunch Chicken or Pasta? Then more snacks, then copious amounts of coca-cola product beverages, then dinner. pizza and gelato. then more snacks. and more beverages. They were never out of the aisle with those trolleys.
Arriving in Atlanta, the customs went surprisingly well. I’d filled in a blue card on the plane, which I’d double checked with one of the stewardesses as to whether or not it was filled in properly. The guy was asking some awkward questions. The ones where they try to catch you out on something. But eventually let me go through. Despite the masses of people and no real queuing system, Atlanta was far easier to navigate than LAX. It was also made that bit easier when I found some Atlanta Travel buddies. An older couple, who were flying home from Munich to Tampa. I’m sure the guy’s name was Horrace, but I didn’t get the woman’s name. Let’s call her…Emelda. We helped each other through the train system at Atlanta, and went with each other to the gate. Saying goodbye on the plane. It was only an hour from Atlanta to Tampa, so I read some more of my book and in no time at all, I was on the ground again.
Arriving in Atlanta, I followed the baggage claim signs which took me onto a shuttle train. Eventually, I came across a group of people sat on some chairs with a banner saying “WELCOME MARTIN!” — That’ll be for me then.
We got to the car and drove back to Lauren’s house. Where her mum introduced herself “Hi, I’m Mrs. Field, but you can call me Cathy. We hug here”.
I’d been warned before hand that she would want to feed me and after the Amsterdam-Atlanta flight, I really wasn’t hungry. I hate some stuff though and then we all just sat around the table chatting. Eventually taking the conversation to the couch.
Later, we took Abby home, where I met her family as well. Her mum also hugs.
When we got back from Abby’s, we sat and watched the “Blink” episode of Doctor Who, before going to bed.