The departure

Original post on blog.com on Tuesday, August 31, 2004 @ 14:29

As mentionned before, I left Toronto at 6:15pm on Wednesday, August 25th, 2004. Flying on BA92 out of Pearson International's Terminal 3, the thing I was most excited for was watching movies on my private TV screen on the back of the seat in front of me. I was a little dissapointed that this was an overnight flight, because then I would miss out on good quality "movie-time" in order to try to adjust my internal clock by forcing myself to sleep.

Lead up to arrival at airport:

Spent the whole morning packing. I am indeed a last minute packer. I am also a procrastinator. I like to call it "working better under pressure". Call it what you will, but it's a strategy that works for me, or at least one that I'm going to stick with for the time being.

I really wanted to swim in the morning before leaving for the airport (making the grand total number of times that we used the pool this summer = 2 --> it's been a cold summer), but despite Dad's last minute efforts, the pool water remained a little bit of a greenish tinge and so I didn't really want to go swimming. Plus, I think the water would have been a bit too cold (I'm a bit squeamish). So the pool count remains at one (thanks to Lindsay, Rachelle and Shanna on a lovely weekend earlier in the summer). Good thing though, because it was down to the wire with me and my packing.

I had alloted some of my fancy-schmancy new Samsonite roll-y luggage as my limits for this trip. On August 3rd, AMJ International came to my house to pick up 8 packages (one medium sized suitcase -- part of my fancy-schmancy set, one 4cu.ft. cardboard box and six 2cu.ft. cardboard boxes) for a sea shipment to Switzerland which wouldn't arrive until mid September (does it really take that long to get there?), so I supposedly didn't have very much to pack (or at least had tried to ration of just enough stuff to last until my shipment arrived, making sure to include a little of everything -- who knows what kind of attire would be appropriate for different occasions?). Whoops, didn't realise that I'd be making lots of purchases in the two weeks prior to departure.

Anyway, so I've got my large roll-y, my carry-on roll-y and my big MEC backpack to tend with. After much stress and with the help of super-packer dad (the engineer), everything fits in. Large roll-y = HEAVY! Me thinks I'll have to pay extra at the airport, but I'll have to, since I'm sure not leaving anything at home.

Quick shower (new super expensive hair-do is short, so doesn't take long to air-dry), good byes to the cat, quick photos in front of the house and we're ready to go (half an hour later than I had planned, but still ok).

[Insert: Come to think of it I didn't really say bye to rooms of the house like I usually do when I go away for a substantial period of time]

Traffic was a little iffy near the airport, but I was also pretty tired, so I napped through most of it. Like usual, I woke up ten minutes before the destination ready to help my dad anvigate to the right terminal. Terminal 3 (the semi-new one...it's still really nice looking with lots of bright windows and stuff) was easily found and parking wasn't too bad. Rolling the luggage was fun too (I love roll-y luggage!). Found the British Airways counter, waited in a pretty long line, was amused by the machine that covers up stuff with plastic (so that your boxes and/or luggage won't get damaged or broken into) and then got to the front of the line and then went to speak with a nice lady (who sadly didn't have an English accent). I noticed that BA workers need to wear pretty hideous red, white and purple/blue blouses but then was told by the nice, accentless lady that my big roll-y was too heavy. By 4kg. Darn figure skates. And I couldn't even pay extra money for them to take it onto the plane. 32kg max or no dice. Of course I'm not going to leave anything at home, so I'm given a cardboard box to put access weight into. I roll luggage out of the way, notice that the airport is suddenly feeling really really hot and try to reorganize with the help of dad (again, the engineer) and my brother (also, the engineer). Mom, grandmother (Apo) and cousins (Atzen and Amin) stand and watch. Sorting complete. Head back to counter, cut the line (the lady said so!), explain behaviour to some people still in line giving weary looks and everything's a-ok (actually big roll-y's now a little too light, and a little sorting at the counter happens). So I deal with paperwork while dad and my brother surround the cardboard box with bright orange airport tape (which cuts of at 30cm intervals or so). Watch the big roll-y, carry-on roll-y and the cardboard box bet conveyoured away. Phew.

Since I'm stinky feeling, I want to find a handy duty-free shop that sells perfume. Instant fresher-upper (I wan't going to buy a whole bottle...just "test" it!). Couldn't find one before the gate, so instead posed for some last minute family photos.

Line up to enter the gates, say my final goodbyes (not too big a deal - mental note: didn't see any tears in parents eyes) and walk on through. The strangest thing though, was that I was surrounded by crying people. More like sobbing people. Everyone in front and behind me in line looked absolutely, well, sad. It made me wonder where these people were going and where they were coming from. Or under what circumstances. I must say that it put a little damper on the whole experience. I mean you never want to see people who are so incredibly sad, especially when I was feeling so happy.

Pass through the "scan you baggage and body" area (some people still sniffling) and wonder if I beeped when I walked through because I have a metal plate in my head. Okay, well, not really, but it sounds cool. I mean, it beeped, but then when the buy used his little wand to see if I was harbouring any metallic devices, everything was ok. Mental note: he didn't go near my head though, and that where I've got screws holding my jaw together. Maybe they don't do that so people won't feel embarrased if they do have metal devices around/in their head (do braces on teeth make beeps?)

Quick scan of the area reveals duty free shops! Beeline for the perfume section and I must say that I'm a fan of Magnetism by Escada. I think that's the right one.

Potty break, rides on those conveyour belt things, and arrive at my gate.

Not too long, and I'm on the plane. Last minute ticket change reveals that I'm not in an aisle seat afterall (darn it...no extra leg room), but a window (not bad, not bad). Did you know that airplanes have an upstairs?!? I guess that's where the seats that become beds are. Darn it, don't get to see them. Walk through first class with the bigger, armchair-like seats (with footrests) and into the "normal" area (designated as "World Traveller" -- ooooh aaaah). Meet my neighbours, an elderly husband and wife couple from Mississauga, originally from Lebanon (don't speak much English) headed for Abu Dhabi. And we're off...