At last, my passport gets a stamp in it! I am officially an international traveler, having landed at Heathrow airport. The wonderful service on British Airways has made me a passenger for life. I’ve spent enough time on cattle-car airlines to qualify for a herd discount. From now on, if I can afford a better airline, I’m spending the money.
The BA attendant is Pakistani by background and British by birth, so while he is wheeling me around, he constantly refers to me at “Luv.” Makes me feel like Ringo Starr is channelling Mohandes Gandhi. We get to the area outside customs, Glenn’s and my pre-arranged meeting place. I’m worried that he is frantically looking for me, not yet realizing that Glenn operates on International Surfer cosmic mode. His flight from Los Angeles arrived at 8:51 a.m., some three minutes after my flight from Baltimore did. I take my 2 foot by 2 foot by half-inch “Mom” poster box and on the back in marker I write “Glenn Robert” just like the limo drivers do for all the business travelers coming in. And I sit and wait. And wait. And wait.
I panic. He’s lost. We missed each other. There are two entrances to the post-customs area, and I’m sitting outside the wrong one. He’s going to get mad and it won’t be pleasant. The whole trip is shot - I might as well go home. 90 minutes go by and every employee I meet assures me that he’s probably still in customs and will be coming out soon. What do they know.
Another 10 minutes go by and suddenly, here he is, cool as a cucumber and thrilled to see me. It took the plane an hour and 40 minutes before Glenn could disembark. I breathe deeply, trying to keep my heart beating as I calm down. We organize our gear and we’re off.
Tickets are bought, the bus is found and boarded, our driver Martin is cheerful and a great tour guide, and for half the journey to Windsor we are the only passengers. Martin jokes, “There are 57 seats to choose from. Get comfortable.”
As we come to the stop where Martin leaves work for the day, I hand him my little stab at international relations. (Get ready for the pun.) I have lapel pin of the state flag of Maryland and another pin for the state flag of California. Martin is surprised, and genuinely touched. Glenn views all this and smiles broadly - he thinks it’s a great move on my part. He gets Brownie points for the California pin and he didn’t have to do anything to get it! What a deal! What a county! What a sister!!
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