|Soup IN a roll! I ate the lot.|
The flight was uneventful. I swapped seats with somebody's 'mom' so they could sit together. I still had an aisle seat, which was what I wanted, but I would have much preferred seat 37A, an exit seat with plenty of legroom. The annoying thing was that I could have taken it when the seats became available on line 24 hours prior to flying – but at a cost of £58! Even the woman on the BA desk at Heathrow said they should have been free. Had I been sitting in that seat I would have enjoyed the flight much more. As it was, I stood most of the way. Once I'd eaten my dinner – chicken curry with rice followed by a chocolate mousse and a small piece of cheese with two crackers – I walked to the back of the plane and basically stood around for most of the flight. I chatted to a computer consultant from Cleveland who plays the stockmarket and buys property. A nice guy, Lebanese, on his way back from a trip to Beirut via London, without his wife who, for some reason, didn't fancy the trip. Apparently there used to be a direct flight from Cleveland to London operated by Continental, but not anymore. I wish I'd known that, although, if I had I would never have known how wonderful it was to sit and enjoy Pollo Caprese and a glass of Cabernet in Romano's Macaroni Grill (opposite Gate H3).
|View from the rear of the plane – an arduous, boring flight|
The flight was smooth – no turbulence – and daylight all the way. We glided into O'Hare and even the usually arduous task of immigration was smooth and fast, thanks to machines rather than humans. My suitcase was there on the reclaim – now that's an anxious part of flying – and soon I found myself in a taxi heading downtown to my hotel on North Michigan Avenue. My cab driver was from Namibia – where he says there are lots of Germans – and used to work for the cosmetics company Avon here in the Windy City, but was made redundant and took up cabbing. He moved to Chicago because he knew people in the city and hadn't been impressed with LA or New York. He found the latter dirty and wasn't keen on LA's downtown. It wasn't a long journey and soon I found myself in my room preparing to get some sleep. I haven't slept well (who does after a transaltantic flight?) and I know that over the next day or two I'll feel tired and weary at odd hours of the day until my body clock kicks in to US time. And then, of course, it'll be time to go home.
|Even the view out of the window was boring|
I've slept for about four hours. It's now 0608hrs and I've been up for around an hour.
The hotel room is fine: the TV works, the room temperature is just right, there's a minibar full of 'stuff' and a 'snacks draw', not that I'll be indulging in any of it. The room is sort of L-shaped. You come through the door and turn first right for the bathroom and second right for the bed. The desk, however, is too close to the cabinet that houses the minibar and 'snacks draw' and it took me an age to get the laptop's cumbersome charger plugged in – the desk is too heavy to move and so is the cabinet. Other than that, no hassles. I've entered the breakfast time zone so I think I'll head on downstairs to check things out. I could do with a decent cup of tea and some cereal.