So today I didn’t take a nap and it’s 9:00 and I’m ready for bed but still awake. I’m bushed. But I can see the jet lag fading away. Maybe tomorrow will be normal. Definitely easier going west than east, for me at least.Maybe I spoke too soon. I’m really tired.
So before I leave the plane rides, I just need to say that it was really nothing short of miraculous that I made it there and back. Getting through security here was a breeze–no big surprise there. I don’t like to go anywhere without my other half though, so for me to voluntarily fly over 5,000 miles to attend a conference/retreat made me feel almost like a no-kidding bona fide adult.
I really don’t like to fly. I’m sure it’s a control thing. I always joke that I have a control problem (if I’m not in control, it’s a problem) but obviously on the plane, you have no control. Was the pilot out late partying? Does he really have impeccable credentials (read: did he graduate in the top 1/3 or bottom 1/3 of his class? Is he a muslim sympathizer? etc. I know there are many more car accidents than plane crashes but it seems to me the chances of surviving a car crash are much higher than those of a plane crash.
But then God…I just listened to my praise worship playlist on Spotify (courtesy of my eldest son who loaned me his premium Spotify for the trip) and I felt the presence of God. Like he was holding me on his lap, rocking me back and forth. And though I could not get comfortable to save my life, I was okay. I went through customs in the wrong place in Heathrow and almost missed my Manchester flight. But I didn’t. I made it. Found the hotel. Had a medium meltdown (tears always rate at least a medium) because of my exhaustion but was able to tell myself, “Tomorrow will be better.” And it was. Two train rides and a cab later, I was there! At Rydal Hall and it was all behind me for a few days.
Speaking of cab rides, David, my driver is a born-again Christian who attends Calvary Chapel in Windermere. As if that wasn’t enough, he has a six year old daughter that his wife homeschools. It was lovely chatting with him as he told me his amazing testimony and drove me past lovely lakes and quaint cottages dotted with cheery daffodils which quite live up to the name Wordsworth gave them in his famous poem. It was a well-spent 30 pounds. Do look him up if you’re ever there. I hope to start up an email correspondence with his wife.
The way back was significantly easier because our family friend Matthew had driven up to see me and he gave me the royal treatment and took me back to the airport so I didn’t have to mess with the cab nor the trains. It also saved a good deal of money not having to pay those fares. But for such a lovely beginning, things sure did get exciting afterwards. Security was a bit of a hassle at Manchester because I didn’t know I had to have a liquids bag and I didn’t think I had enough time to create one there. Oh, I had time. My bags were pulled twice and put in a queue for searching before I finally got through (with half my liquids undiscovered). The queue was full of people who had the same brilliant idea that I had. But God was merciful and I was able to make my plane and actually have two families behind me board as well. Note to self: Brits mean it when they tell you to put all your liquids in a clear plastic bag. It’s not like American security. These people are serious about anything not in a solid state.
Did I mention that security is tight (as it should be)? So after I arrive from Manchester in Heathrow I get paranoid about said “undiscovered” liquids in my baggage because they tell us we will all go through security again before we can connect. So I scour every little corner of my bags for every liquid possible. I’m looking for things that are even thinking of becoming a liquid in all those little pockets of your luggage/backpack you never check. After I get in yet another lengthy line, I discover it’s just my passport and ticket they want to see. They don’t care if I have any liquids. Sigh. Moving along…
Now here’s a little PSA: I don’t care who is booking your flight (mine was Orbitz, next time I’ll book direct with airlines) 1.5 hours is NOT enough between flights–especially international flights when you are at Heathrow, which is quite large and usually involves a shuttle of some sort. I didn’t think it was enough time and it wasn’t really. But if you can jog across the airport and effectively dodge the oncoming passers-by, then you might just make it. I actually ended up with time to spare but of course I didn’t know that I would when I was imitating OJ Simpson. Yes, I’m fully aware I’m dating myself with that last remark. You are welcome.
Anyhow after being seated in the next to last row of the plane, by the window (I warned the kid sitting in the aisle that I got up often) and asking the flight attendant if I couldn’t possibly move forward a bit as I’m not partial to the back , I texted everyone I knew would pray and asked them to pray for a smooth flight. And it was perfect. British Airways seats are a big more comfy than American and we ended up with a seat between us, the teenager sitting in the aisle and I. It was as good as a 10 hour flight could possibly be, including gluten free meals that they served me before everyone else.
After landing in L.A. I had the somewhat harrowing experience of immigration and customs. I even had to pick up my checked-bag and re-check it. Wow. It was much easier in Heathrow even when I did it wrong! After such a long journey across the Atlantic, it was every bit of 2 hours before I sat down at my next gate. I was so wiped out I was actually falling asleep before they even boarded the final plane. Tried to catch an earlier flight but was told I had to be on the same plane as my baggage. Gotta love 6 hour layovers. Well, no, actually, you don’t. But I didn’t have to worry about missing my last plane! And I had a delicious black bean and rice taco at a stationary food truck near my gate. With guac! Yum.
And so this last flight was the grande finale of a travel mercy from the Lord. As I made my way onboard, I realized–the plane was empty. Maybe 25 people on it. Even the pilot was surprised and told us to enjoy it which I took to mean, “Lay down and sleep!” and I did. So I can sleep on an airplane: if I have all three seats to occupy! No sleeping meds, nothing but a pillow, a blanket and three semi-comfy airline seats. I snoozed the whole way and it was pure bliss. No one to ask me about my seatbelt, which I did have on part of the way; no one to ask if I wanted a drink or some pretzels, no annoying neighbor pulling on my seatback as they got up to go to the bathroom. Amazing. Like first class. Wonder if I could buy three seats every time??? Oh right, that would cost about the same as a seat in first class…sure can’t pull anything over on them!
And then, welcome home! Aloha! Yes we know we told you to fill out the lengthy customs form threatening to slap you with a $10,000 fine if you bring even one organic apple from the UK into our state but relax Brah, everyone has pau hana at five so nobody there to check!
Oh and your luggage that didn’t come off the conveyer belt with everyone else’s?
It came on that earlier flight … the one I wasn’t allowed on because I had to accompany my baggage. Yes, that flight.
Apparently God knew I needed the sleep more than I needed to be at home.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28
Decidedly Different 