Welcome back, blog faithful! Or, maybe it’s more appropriate to say “welcome back” to myself, since I’m the one that was gone for two weeks. Either way, after a two-week hiatus, I’m back in the saddle and strapped to my laptop today, with plenty of fun ground to cover. I mean that in both the figurative and literal sense. A lot happened, and I truly covered a lot of ground, on airplanes, sidewalks, subways, and cars. Planes, trains, and automobiles, for sure.
My most recent blog was published and posted on Thursday, November 16. Today is Thursday December 7. That’s a long time with no blogging, especially considering how consistent I’ve been at this gig dating back to 2005. But, as you will see here, we had a lot going on.
The first thing we had “going on” was Thanksgiving. That holiday, obviously, is always on a Thursday so that was a clear no-choice decision to forego the blog and share the day with family. We had a marvelous time.
Our guests flew up from Orlando, and the traveling roster included Barb’s sister Kitty, nephew Todd, his wife Angie, and their twin girls, Arabella and Anastasia, otherwise known as Bella and Stassi. They are, technically speaking, adorable. And at about a year and a half, they are at that priceless stage of being very vocal but not quite talking yet in real words, while they also run around the house almost nonstop, before usually crashing into something. It’s generally OK, because they’re close to the ground to begin with.
Over the years, Kitty has usually been the Head Chef in charge of Thanksgiving dinner, with the rest of us acting as her hard-working sous chefs, but with the group not even arriving until late Wednesday we instituted a change of plans. We ordered a full Turkey Day meal from our local Kowalski’s market. It was partially cooked, so we still had to put things in the oven for a few hours, but that just gave the house a wonderful Thanksgiving aroma. And, it was nice to not have to slave over everything, all day, just to eat for 20 minutes. It all turned out great.
We also had to baby-proof the house, which isn’t something Barbara and I are well practiced at, but by putting up a couple of gates, putting covers on outlets, and securing cabinets, we ended up giving the girls pretty much full access to the main level. Barbara and I moved downstairs to one of the spare bedrooms, as did Kitty, while Todd, Angie, and the twins took over the master. It worked out great for everyone, with the possible exceptions being Buster and Boofus, who never figured out how to jump over the gate near the top of the stairs. When the girls would go to bed for the night, or for their naps, we could open it up and let them snoop around, but before long they made it pretty clear that they’d just stay downstairs.
What also became clear, in short order, was that Stassi had a crush on me. I’ve been around them a few times since they were born, but this was the first time either one of them really “locked eyes” on me, and Stassi would smile broadly every time she saw me. Then she’d bat those gorgeous eyes at me to seal the deal. Bella seemed to get a kick out of her sister’s overt flirting, too.
On Friday, we took them on a walk around the neighborhood before the weather totally tipped over later in the weekend, and they took to the playground like fish to water. They were all over the equipment, and laughing the whole time.
They are likely far too young to actually remember any of this later in life, but that’s the beauty of our current technology. Things like iPhones and internet blogs keep everything documented in far more detail than when we were kids. Back when I was their age, or just a little bit older, the only documentation came via a small “Brownie” camera and rolls of film. It was a big deal to shoot photographs and get them developed. Now, everything is kept for as long as the current tech lasts. Once holograms are in vogue, these old iPhone shots will seem like something nostalgic from an ancient time.
The girls also got to go to the Children’s Museum, and had a riot there, but while they were doing that I took Todd to the Minnesota Wild hockey game. We had a great time, and they won in a shootout after no one scored in overtime, so we had plenty to cheer about.
Our next outing was with the whole group, once again in downtown St. Paul, with the chilly wind making it feel very much like winter. We bundled everybody up and I’d venture a guess that it was Bella and Stassi’s first time out and about in that sort of weather, in their double stroller. They had a great time, and never stopped smiling. That’s my little flirt Stassi in the front seat. She’s definitely tuned in as to how an iPhone selfie works, isn’t she? Adorable.
Winter Carnival isn’t until February, but St. Paul had the lights up in Rice Park and the skating rink going, so the Orlando brigade all got a good dose of winter in Minnesota. Todd and Angie even rented skates and took a few laps around the rink. Nobody crashed, so that was a good thing. And the lights were beautiful.
There was also a trip to Mall of America, which included a lot of time in the amusement park followed by a trip through the giant aquarium. They thought that was fascinating, but by then I’d headed back home after purchasing a new watch for myself. My favorite Oakley watch has served me so well, and was so durable on the road and at the track for many years, but all of a sudden it lost the ability to manually move the hands. Being one, or even two, time zones off is one thing, but with our trip across the Atlantic approaching, I needed a new watch. Mission accomplished, at Macy’s.
We did have to rent an additional car for the weekend, but I had a few free days from National in my account, so that was no big deal. What is, absolutely, a big deal is the transportation of toddlers. This guy got to see, up close, just how much goes into putting their car seats in the rental SUV, and then getting the girls into and out of them. Then there’s the double stroller, as well. It’s a lot of work, but their smiles make it priceless.
On Monday, it was “getaway day” for everyone. Todd, Angie, and the girls flew back to Orlando around midday, and if taking them to Mall of America was a lot of work, getting organized for the flight and getting them there was a major endeavor. There was no way we could do that by the curb, so we parked both cars and somehow managed to get everyone on the plane. Then, Barb, Kitty, and I went back home to get ready for our flight at 10:00 that night. Needless to say, there was a lot going on. It was like we were all flying around in limitless directions, but we managed to get it all done gracefully, including my job as the innkeeper. With our friend Erica coming the next day, to be our live-in cat sitter for a week, we needed to “flip” one bedroom for her. Lots of laundry and a full cleaning were in order. We went ahead and did the same thing for the master bedroom too, knowing it would be nice to get home from the trip and have a clean bed to sleep in.
I didn’t even pack for our trip until around 7:00 p.m., and that was yet another challenge. The logistics of flying nonstop to London, and then splitting up so that Kitty and I could make a connection to Edinburgh while Barb flew off to Zurich, made it an easy decision for all of us to pack scientifically and carefully, so that we could carry on our bags and not check them. Somehow, I made it work. Barb is the expert at that sort of stuff, because she’s always carrying on her bags when she’s on business in Europe. Her schedules are so jam-packed with meetings in various cities, she can’t afford to wait for a bag at the carousel. I tried my best to imitate what she does, and I got over my fear of wearing a shirt more than once.
We were in the front cabin for our overnight flight, and the 767 we were on had “lay flat” seats, so that was good. What was not good was my ongoing problem of hardly ever being able to sleep on a plane when doing so would be the best thing. We took off just after 10:00 p.m., and I might possibly have gotten a total of one hour of sleep before we landed at Heathrow near 12:00 noon their time. It’s not a good feeling.
We also had to traipse through an enormous terminal, take a bus to a different terminal, get through immigration, and then Kitty and I headed one way while Barb headed another, to get to her Zurich flight. We’d gotten on that first plane on Monday night, and it was already about to get dark on Tuesday when we landed at the much more manageable Edinburgh airport. And for the record, as you’re reading this, Edinburgh is pronounced “Eddinbruh” in Scotland.
Kitty and I were staying at a marvelous place, the Glasshouse Hotel, not far from the Royal Mile in the city and walking distance to just about everything. Despite our jet lag, we made it a point to put on our coats on a blustery Edinburgh night and head out for a long walk on the bustling sidewalks. What was kind of funny, before we headed out the doors and onto the sidewalk, was the confused look on the desk clerk’s face when Kitty asked her if we should avoid any areas or take special precautions while taking a walk after sunset. The young lady honestly looked like she didn’t understand the question, and she said, “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean.”
Kitty said, “Is it safe to be out or are there any places in the city we should avoid?”
Again, she looked puzzled, but she said, “I’ve lived here all my life, and like everyone else I walk to most places. I’ve never once felt any reason to be worried about that sort of thing. You can go wherever you’d like. We all do. It’s very much a pedestrian city.”
We roamed the streets for a good hour, and finally passed an Italian restaurant that looked good, so we ducked in there for a quick meal. It was fantastic, and it gave us a chance to use our British pounds as cash.
We did all we could to stay up as late as possible, knowing that getting to 9:00 would go a long way toward getting us acclimated to the time. Once we were back at the hotel we went to the lounge on our floor and had a glass of wine, trying to stretch the time just to get close to 9:00, but we didn’t make it. At 8:00 I was spent, as was Kitty, so we went to our rooms and gave in to the urge to sleep.
After falling asleep fairly quickly, I awoke to the sound of some people in the hallway. My first thought was, “Why are these people making so much noise at this hour? It’s got to be 3:00 in the morning…” Then I looked at my new watch and saw that it was not, actually, 3:00 in the morning. It was more like 10:45. I’d been asleep a full two hours. And after that, I couldn’t fall back asleep. Jet lag is a real challenge.
I did nod off a bit before dawn, but by the time I finally got up I was certifiably groggy. To clear our heads, we went for another walk to get some fresh air, and did some shopping. We couldn’t buy too much, though, because we basically had no room in our bags to take anything back home with us. I had even stuffed five t-shirts in my backpack, where my laptop would normally go. For the first time in forever, I traveled without my computer. I’d have to rely on my iPhone for any internet access or email. That, my friends, was weird.
NOTE: To the right here, I was going to try something new but I failed. Our blog template does have a button for creating photo galleries, rather than just single photos, but I couldn’t even figure out how to open the page. When I clicked on it, I only got an “Access Denied” message. Sorry about that. Instead, I’m just going to stack a bunch of photos from the trip. They may or may not be in order, but will all have captions.
Around 12 noon, we started a great adventure. When my sister Mary was a freshman in college, she did an exchange program in order to actually spend her first year of school in England, rather than at home. While she was there, she met a handsome young Scotsman by the name of Alan Learmonth, and they ended up getting married, having two children, and living in a small seaside village called Arbroath. That is the very short version of why Mary’s two oldest kids are named Rhiannon and Ewan. Scottish names, indeed.
Mary and Alan’s marriage didn’t last, but Rhiannon and Ewan have stayed connected to their biological father thanks to the access given to us via social media. In addition, Kimberly, Leigh, and Lauren (Mary’s three kids with her husband Lonnie) have all gotten to know Alan and his girls Rachel and Eve, so all of them are one big happy group these days, and they travel to see each other quite a bit. Alan, who lives in Edinburgh, pledged to be our tour guide on Wednesday, and no better tour guide could ever be found.
He spent many hours with us, doing far more than just pointing out the major sights and important buildings. He had stories for just about everything, and really gave us an insider’s tour of Edinburgh, including back alleys and side streets that had their own tales to tell. It was fascinating, and a ton of fun. While we were walking around, just down the Royal Mile from Edinburgh Castle, we happened upon a street musician. Instead of a guitar, a saxophone, or an overturned plastic bucket being played like a drum, we was expertly playing bagpipes. In a full formal kilt. That’s the sort of thing that makes a trip really special.
When it was time for dinner, just after sunset, we met up with Alan’s better half, Christine, and his girls Rachel and Eve, at a wonderful pub. It was a fantastically fun evening, with great pub grub (fish & chips, of course) and raucous laughter.
I hadn’t seen Alan in so long I can only venture a guess as to when we last shared a drink. I’m pretty sure it was around 1990 or 1991, but we both felt like we never missed a beat. It was like I’d just seen him yesterday, and getting to know his family was a real pleasure. When I met Rachel, she said she was happy to meet me, and I replied, “Ah, yes, but I’ve actually met you before, when you were just home from being born. Just a wee baby, you were.”
That night, I actually got a solid four or five hours of uninterrupted sleep. I was getting there, but still not operating at maximum capacity. On Thursday, Kitty and I went for yet another early walk before hailing a taxi to take us back to the airport. With Scotland and England both being part of the United Kingdom, we were now flying domestically, so no need for immigration or customs, and that made it a much easier commute aboard a British Airways jet. Barbara was also in London by then, and when we landed at Heathrow she had arranged to have a car service waiting for us. All I had to do was look for the bloke holding the sign that said “Mr. Wilber” and off we went in Mercedes Benz luxury.
For her meetings in London, Barbara had a room at the J.W. Marriott, right across Park Lane from Hyde Park. But, on Thursday the hotel was sold-out so there was no way to get a room for Kitty. I, therefore, let the girls have fun sharing a room and I walked a half-mile up the road to another Marriott for one night. Kitty would get her own room the next night, and I’d relocate back to Barb’s place. It sounded like a hassle, but it was all pretty easy.
Over the next couple of days, we had nothing short of a riotously great time. We walked miles and miles, and while Barbara was busy on a conference call on Friday, Kitty and I walked down to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard. I’d seen it multiple times before, but it’s alway worth witnessing. Finally, with work behind her we had Barb’s full attention and we wasted nary a minute of time checking as many items off our list as possible. In addition to Buckingham Palace and all the pageantry, we also managed to eat a wonderful dinner in the J.W. Marriott’s fine restaurant, while we also hit a few pubs and wandered the incredibly busy streets of London.
We heard from another guest at the hotel that the Tate Museum was featuring some fantastic impressionist art, and we headed there (by the Thames River) to see it. That’s as close as I’ve ever stood to a Monet. Pretty thrilling, actually. I took a few Art Appreciation classes in college, and there I was standing next to many works of art I’d learned about so many years ago.
We bought travel cards for the London Underground (aka The Tube) which can whisk you all around the city in minutes. We went to the Charles Dickens Museum in the house he once lived in, and after that we ventured to a place none of us had been to before. We went to Abbey Road Studios, and marveled at the scene of a constant flow of tourists all taking their photos at the famous crosswalk that’s featured on the album cover.
Abbey Road is in a fashionable part of London, on a busy street, but most of the drivers seemed very patient as group after group posed for photos at this famous site. Only one crabby old lady honked at anyone. I gave her the “C’mon man” look.
On Saturday night, we decided to attend the theater. I left it up to Barb to select the play, but I was secretly hoping for something light-hearted and funny. The play we went to see, called “The Ferryman” was definitely not light-hearted, but it was fascinating. It was based on one family’s struggle in Ireland, when the IRA was very active and people were being horribly oppressed. It was a violent era, as well. The time frame during the play was when many IRA members who were imprisoned went on hunger strikes. Many of them starved themselves to death. It was a harrowing story, and it was expertly acted. There were also a number of kids in the show, playing members of the family around which the story was told, and they were the best child stage actors I’ve ever seen.
It was great to do that, and another box checked off the list, but man it was not easy getting there or getting back. The theater was just off Piccadilly Circus, which is pretty much the London version of Times Square. The tube trains were packed, the sidewalks were claustrophobic, and we were actually a few minutes late. The ushers had us wait until a set change before they seated us. From that point forward, we were mesmerized.
After the show, when all the plays in the area were getting out at the same time, the crush of people all trying to get on The Tube was incredible. If you’ve seen shots of the Japanese subways, where people are literally crammed into every square inch, it was pretty much like that. And, we’d have to change lines twice to get back to the stop at Marble Arch, where the hotel was. It was crazy.
And then we heard an announcement about the Jubilee Line being closed for at least 30 minutes, and that was one of the lines we had planned to use to get back the hotel. Like pros on The Tube, we quickly figured out a “work around” for the problem, by heading in a different direction to take two different lines back home. We felt pretty proud of ourselves, for that one.
Finally, on Sunday, it was time to head home. Even more adventures awaited us. Barbara had another hired driver pick us up at the hotel, and with there being three of us someone would have to sit in the front passenger’s seat. I offered to do that and then immediately made the typical American mistake of going to the wrong side of the car! As I reached to open the front door on the right side, our driver said, “You can do that, but you’ll have to drive. I’ll give you directions.” I sheepishly went back around to the left side.
By that time, though, I’m proud to say we were all pretty much dialed in to looking to the right at every crosswalk. A lifetime of looking left first is hard to overcome, but the first time a car whizzes by you on the left side of the road is enough to make you pay attention.
As we approached the airport, the driver asked if we were in First or Business Class, and we were. He smiled and then said, “I’ve got a very pleasant surprise for you. Virgin Atlantic and Delta are partners, so I can drop you at the exclusive Virgin First Class entrance. It’s pretty wonderful.”
Wonderful it was. We pulled off the main road and pulled up to a private entrance. There, we entered a private lounge. A nattily attired woman came out from behind one of the desks and escorted us to a large comfortable sofa. She took our passports and our bags back to her station and moments later returned with our boarding passes and passports. She then showed us to a private security entrance, where no more than six or eight other people were going through the same process that hundreds were lined up for in the main terminal. We were through it in mere minutes.
Then, we were welcomed to the Virgin Atlantic lounge, one of the most amazing airline clubs I’ve ever been to. Full meals, a spa, waiter service, and too many other niceties to mention. It was “pretty wonderful” to the max, I’d say. Thank you, Sir Richard Branson! Your airline is phenomenal, and we’re fortunate that Delta partners with it. That was incredible.
Our return flight was about nine hours long, meaning we left Heathrow around 12 noon and got into MSP in the middle of the same afternoon, with the six hour time difference. We had the same lay flat seats, but by then we were totally acclimated to British time and there we were in the middle of the day. So what did I do? With the pressure off, I ate my meal and put my seat back. Then I slept like a brick for three or four hours, maybe even a bit more. Strange how that works.
We did our best to stay up late to try to get back on Minnesota time, and we slept in a little extra on Monday morning. That was important, because on Tuesday night we had a date with our great friends Terry and Lynn Blake. We’d be meeting them at the incredible State Theater in downtown Minneapolis for a concert.
I’ve been a big fan of Evanescence for years, as has Lynn. I think Terry and Barb came along to see what we’ve always been raving about. They were not disappointed. Singer Amy Lee has a voice that is nearly impossible to describe. I don’t think there’s any doubt that she’s the absolute finest rock vocalist I’ve ever heard, but as I told Barb on the way to the show, “What makes them incredible is that she’s that talented but they’re also a great band. They are all talented. It’s not like she’s the star and they just play the beats for her.”
To make it even better, they performed that night with an orchestra behind them. It was one of the single most spellbinding concerts I’ve ever attended. And Terry and Barbara both thought so too. What an experience that was.
So there you go. I take a couple of weeks off from the blog and look what you get. 4,300 words spanning a major holiday, a trip across the Atlantic, and a Minneapolis concert. I think it was worth the wait.
I’ll be back next week, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel. I’m not sure the subject matter can keep up with this one, but I’ll give it my best shot.
And hey, one more time… If you read this blog and liked what you read, then (by all means!) please “Like” it with a click on the button at the top. The more likes the merrier.
Bob Wilber, at your service and still smiling about all of the above (maybe not the crowds in Piccadilly, but everything else.)