In Windsor, Ontario...

For some reason everything was smooth sailing and there was an air of positivity surrounding me; it wasn't like last year's trip to Pittsburgh when COVID was still loitering with intent and I really thought I might have to wear a mask during the flight. As it turned out I didn't have to, but the whole thing had been fretful and unpleasant from the start. Not this year! Well, there was the one-armed taxi driver who took me to the airport, travelling through London on Coronation day at 20mph virtually all the way there, leaving little time to chill before the flight, although I managed a coffee, a pastry and a carton of fruit, granola and natural yoghurt, courtesy of Pret a Manger opposite Gate 28.

View from room 526, DoubleTree by Hilton, Windsor, Ontario

The first good thing was a direct flight. The last thing I wanted was the usual stop-over faff in Philadelphia or New York or Chicago. I had to move out of my comfort zone and fly with another airline (and not British Airways) but I think doing so was liberating. My take on British Airways is changing, it's a bit like my changing perception of the UK as a whole. For years I've been brainwashed into thinking that the UK is the best country in the world, the place to be from, the place to live, full of proper politicians who can do no wrong, a police force that isn't corrupt or full of rapists, racists and murderers and, of course, a health service that works. But no, it turns out I was wrong. I had been cheated. The Government is corrupt, there are rapists, racists and murderers amongst the ranks of our police force and the health service is on its knees.

Not a million miles from Detroit...

I've never been 100% happy with British Airways, but I had been conned by Léo Delibes' Flower Duet and the reassuring British accent of the pilots, although of late I've noticed them sounding more like contestants in The Apprentice, which is a little off-putting. And then there's the class system, which I hate with a vengeance anyway, but on a British Airways flight it is live and kicking and ready to annoy the hell out of me as I walk through the plane to my economy class seat, passing the cosseted comfort of those well off enough to fork out the extortionate price of a First or Business Class seat.

Rain at Heathrow

Fine, all planes have their own versions of First and Business Class, but it's the attitude of the cabin crew on a British Airways flight that makes it all worse. It's also a lot to do with the UK itself and how, perhaps, our 'flagship airline' reflects the country, which is on its knees morally and economically. The very thought of sitting in a capsule flying at 38,000 feet and basically being transported across the Atlantic in what amounts to a smaller version of 'our great nation' is just too much to bear. Somehow everything British is synchronizing and becoming one massive blob of depressive crap and in this case offloading moaning English people who have simply had enough and can't believe their luck, that they are getting out, albeit temporarily.

The good news was that I was flying Delta – a huge Airbus 330 jam-packed with American positivity where I sensed that the cabin crew were on my side for once. Sitting in seat 39A looking out on the rain drumming hard on the tarmac, I was glad that I was missing yesterday's Coronation of King Charles lll and all that unnecessary flag waving by overweight Brexiteers. I turned and spotted a couple of vacant seats on the other side of the plane, seats 38G and 38H. It was an exit row so there was plenty of much needed leg room and all I had to do was get up and take it as boarding was complete. I jumped up and waltzed across but before I could sit down I was told that it was an exit row and that I couldn't sit there. Disappointed, I skulked back to seat 39A and buckled up, but minutes later another member of the cabin crew – her name was Tia – came over and told me that I could sit there and that there had been some kind of misunderstanding. They thought, wrongly, that I was the dad of three kids sitting in the middle row of the plane. One of the kids had strayed over to my desired seat, seat 38H and when I went over there, knowing full well that the kid wasn't supposed to be there, they thought I was the dad and that I was trying to spread my family across the width of the plane. Anyway, thanks to Tia, I was allowed to sit by the window, in an exit seat, and enjoy the flight. And let me tell you, I enjoyed the flight immensely. For a start it was smooth all the way, even as we glided through the clouds over England and believe me it took a long time to break through to the blue skies above. I stretched out, I read Murakami's Novelist as a Vocation, I briefly listened to Transmission by Joy Division on my iphone and I enjoyed the inflight hospitality – chicken with pesto and vegetables, a wonderful salted caramel ice cream and later a delicious chocolate mousse, not forgetting two large glasses of orange juice and a couple of bottles of mineral water. 

Decent airline food courtesy of Delta

When Tia passed by I thanked her for allowing me to sit in seat 38H – and to commandeer seat 38G for all my stuff. I told her that, had I been flying British Airways, I would still have been sitting in seat 39A, I just know it. British Airways' cabin crew are like that, they're almost like British businessmen, they are short-sighted and reluctant to give anyone a break and would prefer those seats to be empty throughout the flight rather than have me sitting there enjoying myself. Had I remained in seat 39A I would have sat there in my leather jacket, my on-board briefcase stuffed under the seat in front of me, my two bottles of mineral water getting in the way, and I would have been most uncomfortable throughout. The flight would have been awful, I know that much, and had I needed to get up (as I did on numerous occasions) I would have been interrupting the person sitting in seat 39B. In short it would have been a nightmare and I would certainly not have arrived in Detroit feeling alive and happy as I did, thanks to having moved seats. I think from now on, if I can fly Delta, I will, because they're great, that's all there is to it.

Everything was a doddle. Immigration, normally a big hassle, was smooth. Baggage reclaim was fine too and then it was just a cab to Canada, yes, Canada. I'm staying over the river in Windsor, Ontario, and while that means showing my passport twice daily to customs officials it's better than staying in a cockroach-infested hotel in Detroit. 

And while we're on the subject of hotels, the DoubleTree by Hilton on Riverside Drive in Windsor is amazing. Hopefully I won't get some awful foot infection like I did last year in Pittsburgh and I put that down to the hotel which was the only place where my feet were exposed. Last night, just as a precaution, I kept my socks on.

Just landed at Detroit...

But what a great hotel. First, the check-in was fairly smooth, second, the room was amazing. It sports a huge (and I mean huge) flatscreen television, there's an interesting-looking shower, which I just know will be invigorating, a massive (and comfortable) double bed, a decent wardrobe and a wonderful view of the Detroit skyline across the river. Apparently, if I was on the Detroit side the view across to Windsor isn't as impressive. 

There's a pool and a gym and I might try and get some exercise, although I know what it's like at the event I'm attending on the Detroit side of the river and that means there won't be much time for keeping fit. Also, I need to buy a pair of trainers if I'm going to use the Peleton exercise bikes as I can't very well go down there in shorts and business shoes, I'll look ridiculous and I'd have to look ridiculous in the elevator too and I simply couldn't stomach the humiliation. Shorts and black leather shoes. Think of that for a moment. I would look and feel like a dork.

Last night, after a perfectly respectable pasta meal, I slept well, from around 1930hrs to just before 0500hrs – roughly nine hours – and now I'm considering hitting the showers and also having a shave, then it's breakfast on the second floor and a day wandering around and also getting over to the Detroit side of the river to engage in the process of work, albeit for a short while as the whole thing doesn't start until tomorrow.

I suppose the only downside to being on the Canadian side of the river is having to show passports twice a day to border officials. I'm guessing it'll be stricter on the US side, but I'm more concerned with the cost, which could be as much as $50 per trip, which will mount up. That said, we have purchased a Transit Windsor Smart Ride Card so it won't be anything like $50 a ride. Right, let's hit the showers!