Into the hotel lobby walks a dude covered in tats, with arms bigger than my legs, a crew cut, and an 8-inch long beard. In a gentle voice with an Eastern European accent, he says “Cab for Jeff.” What the hell, I think, and climb inside. On the sound system: Five Finger Death Punch, a heavy metal band. Turns out I like them, at least in 20-minute increments!
I believe in symmetry, so I googled some of the band’s lyrics to find something appropriate to frame my flight home as Dylan Thomas framed my travel to Wales. A song called “Lift Me Up” seemed like it had the right title for a plane flight. So here goes: “Lift me up, Lift me up, Higher now I’m up.” It’s certainly easier to parse than the redoubtable Mr. Thomas.
Unfortunately, my ascent remains aspirational. My flight to Heathrow was rescheduled as of July 1 to depart at 1:15 instead of 12:30, not that I was given any notice. And moments ago, the flight was further delayed to “approximately” 3:00, landing at Heathrow at 4:30. Conveniently, my flight home from Heathrow also is delayed from 5:10 to 6:45, avoiding what would have been a mad rush from Terminal 2 to Terminal 5.
Marking time in the Isle of Man airport isn’t so bad. Thomas (the tank engine, not the poet) is here, in the form of coin-operated rides, to the delight of several young children. I’ve got a good book (“Outlandish: Walking Europe’s Unlikely Landscapes,” by Nick Hunt) and lots of crosswords. And I’ve had time to reflect on an enjoyable time in the Isle of Man, which seems to attract laid-back types looking to escape the world’s madness – my taxi driver from Eastern Europe, the head waitress at the hotel restaurant (from South Africa), and countless refugees from other parts of the UK and former colonies.
It’s a few hours later, and I find myself in the BA lounge at Heathrow. It feels like I walked as many miles here at the airport as I averaged each day last week, just with fewer hills. However, Johnny Walker Black in hand (metaphorically, otherwise typing might be a problem), I am patiently awaiting my delayed flight home. Six weeks til my next trip (Machu Picchu, Cusco, Galapagos)!
Update (July 18) – still no signs of my luggage!
PuffinlessTravel 