Mike Jones
<font color=993300>....nothing clever to say... ju
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2003
What a Carry On! Part 1
Cast: Mike – 44, 8th trip.
DW Amanda – 36, 2nd trip.
Bob & Pat (70-odd), my parents. 3rd visit (last one 5 years ago)
DD Bethany – nearly 16
DS Adam 14.5 – both on their 6th trip to WDW.
Caveat: My trippies tend to be somewhat lengthy: this occasionally irritates me as much as it may annoy you (after all, I have to type the things!), but Sun readers can always flick through and just look at the pretty pictures. As my primary reason for writing them is to relive the holiday, I prefer more detail rather than less. I hope, however, that like-minded folk will also enjoy them. If you don’t, then feel free to stop after the first session, but if you do, cash or cheques payable to M Jones are gratefully received! (Or just post a reply – the feedback is very welcome!)
Day 1 – Sunday 17th August 2008
Amazingly, as I rarely sleep well the night before a flight to Florida, I am awakened at 4.00am by my alarm! The power of alcohol! Amanda and I shower (noisily accompanied by James Blunt, although I keep telling him to get his own house!) before the kids hog the bathroom for the next hour or so – Beth is groggily propelled bathwards at 4.30, as she needs additional GHD time. Adam is woken at 5.00.
After a coffee and a quick check of the boards (and the Florida weather, given the seemingly inevitable arrival of Tropical Storm Fay!) I run down the mile or so to my parents’ house at 6.00am, bringing them back here for the cab we’ve arranged for 6.15. Amazingly, this arrives on time, and we crush happily into the 6 seats with our minimalist luggage. (One piece of luggage each, sized to comply with USAirways limits and Manchester Airports slightly different dimensions, plus one ‘personal item’ In practice, this means a week’s clothing each in a small wheeled case, plus a small daypack or handbag per traveller.)
The journey to Manchester Airport Terminal 2 is smooth and event free, although for some reason best known to himself, our driver hogs the outside lane for the whole journey, even though the roads are virtually empty.
It’s shortly before 7.00am as we enter the building, approximately 4 hours before our flight time and a full hour before the desks are supposed to open. Now, this may puzzle some of you, but my dad hates to be late for anything and suffers major anxiety if he thinks he could be: and I’m just like him! Accordingly, the rest of our sleep-deprived families have to suffer the earlier starts.
As it turns out, the US Airways desk opens at 7.25, and we are the first in line. My dad and I grin inanely at each other in triumph! The check-in process is straightforward, with a pleasant chap attending us, and we are given the seats we reserved on line for both legs of the journey. (Other travellers have reported on the boards that this is not always the case.)
At this relatively early hour there are no lines (hey, see that? Mike slips back into the vernacular like a true pro!) at security, (newly re-vamped and extended upstairs, to cope with the more detailed checks since the London bombings) and even though my dad is selected for a random body search (pretty well guaranteed, as he didn’t set the metal detector off this trip – he generally does, due to some steel wire holding his ribcage together after a heart op many years back!) we are through to the lounge by 7.50. Just the three hours to go then!
And, constant reader, what d’ya suppose we do next? Hmm? Any ideas? No? Well, just for a change, we decide to have a coffee at…. Starbucks!
This, for me, is the true start of a foreign holiday. I can never truly relax until I’m the right side of the security barriers with a cup of java in hand. Up to this point, there are all sorts of potential problems that could be my fault or responsibility: car break down, traffic jam, forgotten passport etc.. but once you are sat with the green lady, it’s all someone else’s problem! (And, unlike those perennial and amazingly common morons that check in and then get lost in the Duty Free, failing to look at their watches or check the departures boards, we keep a close eye on the progress of our plane! What else are you there for? How on earth can you forget where you should be at the appropriate time?!! Right, that’s enough, I’ll calm down again! Breathe in.. breathe out…)
We sit on the far side of Starbucks, at Gate 213 to drink our coffees and fill in the Visa Waiver forms. I do this meticulously, taking over half an hour of valuable Waterstone browsing time – and mess it all up. I’ve put the wrong pigging flight number on all six of them. Poo. I try to obtain more but no one seems to have any, although I am assured that the crew will have plenty on the flight.
T2 is looking very shabby these days (and I can recall saying this 7 years ago on our first WDW jaunt!) but we notice large placards announcing the imminent commencement of upgrade works. We’ll see!
The family take it in turns to wander the shops and variously guard our bags. Amanda and I do the required trawl through Duty Free and the adjacent accessory shops, and I manage to distract her from the multiple sunglasses temptations along the way. (I figure 7 existing pairs are enough for anyone!) Mum buys Bethany a cheese sandwich for the flight, as she generally doesn’t like the options on board.
At 9.15 we feed Adam a travel sickness pill as a precaution: over the years he has caused significant trauma and entertainment with his ad hoc impressions of the girl from The Exorcist on a variety of trans-Atlantic fights. (Mind you, it did get us processed very quickly in the Dollar Car Hire office at Sanford once, so there were some compensations!) We think it likely that he’s grown out of it now, but we’ll see.
By happy coincidence, ‘our’ plane arrives effectively next door at Gate 212 at 9.45.
To pass a little time my dad and I have a play on the £1 massage chairs – I’ve never been tempted before, as I come from the North West like Craig W, and we watch our pennies carefully up here, but as my dad has paid for the bulk of the holiday, it only seems fair to treat him.
Hey! Guess what? They’re really good! A proper massage action, up and down the spine, and you know it’s the real deal, because it hurts!
Right, time for the off. I nip at everyone’s heels until they’ve all been shepherded to the toilets for a last wee, and we adjourn to the gate area. As there’s no where to sit, we lurk casually by the actual gate itself, drawing disapproving looks from the folk who’ve been camped out here for an hour.
The boarding process is done by ‘zones’, and naturally enough, (after the wrinklies and special needs are boarded) they start with First Class (zone 1) and then work their way down (or is it up?). Upon checking, we seem to be in Zones 2, 3, 4 & 5 between us, so we gather behind our two 2’s (me and mum) and muscle through en masse.
We are aboard by 10.20. I selected three rows of two online (30, 31 and 32, all A & B) on the left side, near the back of the cabin so that we could have some control over recliners in and around the family. The usual nesting rituals take place as we each set out our stalls for the next 8 hours or so. (In fact the co-pilot advises that our flight time to Philadelphia will be 7 hours and 23 minutes… or thereabouts.)
To pass the time while the rest of the passengers board, we browse the wonderful SkyMall catalogue. This is a truly awe-inspiring journal, full of incredible and mind-boggling consumables that you never knew you needed. This years favourites? (linked, as some of them are available online too!):
…The Indoor Doggie Restroom (just think about that 2 gallon capacity!)
http://www.skymall.com/shopping/detail.htm?pid=102628291&c=10700
Cast: Mike – 44, 8th trip.
DW Amanda – 36, 2nd trip.
Bob & Pat (70-odd), my parents. 3rd visit (last one 5 years ago)
DD Bethany – nearly 16
DS Adam 14.5 – both on their 6th trip to WDW.
Caveat: My trippies tend to be somewhat lengthy: this occasionally irritates me as much as it may annoy you (after all, I have to type the things!), but Sun readers can always flick through and just look at the pretty pictures. As my primary reason for writing them is to relive the holiday, I prefer more detail rather than less. I hope, however, that like-minded folk will also enjoy them. If you don’t, then feel free to stop after the first session, but if you do, cash or cheques payable to M Jones are gratefully received! (Or just post a reply – the feedback is very welcome!)
Day 1 – Sunday 17th August 2008
Amazingly, as I rarely sleep well the night before a flight to Florida, I am awakened at 4.00am by my alarm! The power of alcohol! Amanda and I shower (noisily accompanied by James Blunt, although I keep telling him to get his own house!) before the kids hog the bathroom for the next hour or so – Beth is groggily propelled bathwards at 4.30, as she needs additional GHD time. Adam is woken at 5.00.
After a coffee and a quick check of the boards (and the Florida weather, given the seemingly inevitable arrival of Tropical Storm Fay!) I run down the mile or so to my parents’ house at 6.00am, bringing them back here for the cab we’ve arranged for 6.15. Amazingly, this arrives on time, and we crush happily into the 6 seats with our minimalist luggage. (One piece of luggage each, sized to comply with USAirways limits and Manchester Airports slightly different dimensions, plus one ‘personal item’ In practice, this means a week’s clothing each in a small wheeled case, plus a small daypack or handbag per traveller.)
The journey to Manchester Airport Terminal 2 is smooth and event free, although for some reason best known to himself, our driver hogs the outside lane for the whole journey, even though the roads are virtually empty.
It’s shortly before 7.00am as we enter the building, approximately 4 hours before our flight time and a full hour before the desks are supposed to open. Now, this may puzzle some of you, but my dad hates to be late for anything and suffers major anxiety if he thinks he could be: and I’m just like him! Accordingly, the rest of our sleep-deprived families have to suffer the earlier starts.
As it turns out, the US Airways desk opens at 7.25, and we are the first in line. My dad and I grin inanely at each other in triumph! The check-in process is straightforward, with a pleasant chap attending us, and we are given the seats we reserved on line for both legs of the journey. (Other travellers have reported on the boards that this is not always the case.)
At this relatively early hour there are no lines (hey, see that? Mike slips back into the vernacular like a true pro!) at security, (newly re-vamped and extended upstairs, to cope with the more detailed checks since the London bombings) and even though my dad is selected for a random body search (pretty well guaranteed, as he didn’t set the metal detector off this trip – he generally does, due to some steel wire holding his ribcage together after a heart op many years back!) we are through to the lounge by 7.50. Just the three hours to go then!
And, constant reader, what d’ya suppose we do next? Hmm? Any ideas? No? Well, just for a change, we decide to have a coffee at…. Starbucks!
This, for me, is the true start of a foreign holiday. I can never truly relax until I’m the right side of the security barriers with a cup of java in hand. Up to this point, there are all sorts of potential problems that could be my fault or responsibility: car break down, traffic jam, forgotten passport etc.. but once you are sat with the green lady, it’s all someone else’s problem! (And, unlike those perennial and amazingly common morons that check in and then get lost in the Duty Free, failing to look at their watches or check the departures boards, we keep a close eye on the progress of our plane! What else are you there for? How on earth can you forget where you should be at the appropriate time?!! Right, that’s enough, I’ll calm down again! Breathe in.. breathe out…)
We sit on the far side of Starbucks, at Gate 213 to drink our coffees and fill in the Visa Waiver forms. I do this meticulously, taking over half an hour of valuable Waterstone browsing time – and mess it all up. I’ve put the wrong pigging flight number on all six of them. Poo. I try to obtain more but no one seems to have any, although I am assured that the crew will have plenty on the flight.
T2 is looking very shabby these days (and I can recall saying this 7 years ago on our first WDW jaunt!) but we notice large placards announcing the imminent commencement of upgrade works. We’ll see!
The family take it in turns to wander the shops and variously guard our bags. Amanda and I do the required trawl through Duty Free and the adjacent accessory shops, and I manage to distract her from the multiple sunglasses temptations along the way. (I figure 7 existing pairs are enough for anyone!) Mum buys Bethany a cheese sandwich for the flight, as she generally doesn’t like the options on board.
At 9.15 we feed Adam a travel sickness pill as a precaution: over the years he has caused significant trauma and entertainment with his ad hoc impressions of the girl from The Exorcist on a variety of trans-Atlantic fights. (Mind you, it did get us processed very quickly in the Dollar Car Hire office at Sanford once, so there were some compensations!) We think it likely that he’s grown out of it now, but we’ll see.
By happy coincidence, ‘our’ plane arrives effectively next door at Gate 212 at 9.45.
To pass a little time my dad and I have a play on the £1 massage chairs – I’ve never been tempted before, as I come from the North West like Craig W, and we watch our pennies carefully up here, but as my dad has paid for the bulk of the holiday, it only seems fair to treat him.
Hey! Guess what? They’re really good! A proper massage action, up and down the spine, and you know it’s the real deal, because it hurts!
Right, time for the off. I nip at everyone’s heels until they’ve all been shepherded to the toilets for a last wee, and we adjourn to the gate area. As there’s no where to sit, we lurk casually by the actual gate itself, drawing disapproving looks from the folk who’ve been camped out here for an hour.
The boarding process is done by ‘zones’, and naturally enough, (after the wrinklies and special needs are boarded) they start with First Class (zone 1) and then work their way down (or is it up?). Upon checking, we seem to be in Zones 2, 3, 4 & 5 between us, so we gather behind our two 2’s (me and mum) and muscle through en masse.
We are aboard by 10.20. I selected three rows of two online (30, 31 and 32, all A & B) on the left side, near the back of the cabin so that we could have some control over recliners in and around the family. The usual nesting rituals take place as we each set out our stalls for the next 8 hours or so. (In fact the co-pilot advises that our flight time to Philadelphia will be 7 hours and 23 minutes… or thereabouts.)
To pass the time while the rest of the passengers board, we browse the wonderful SkyMall catalogue. This is a truly awe-inspiring journal, full of incredible and mind-boggling consumables that you never knew you needed. This years favourites? (linked, as some of them are available online too!):
…The Indoor Doggie Restroom (just think about that 2 gallon capacity!)
http://www.skymall.com/shopping/detail.htm?pid=102628291&c=10700