LHR to PHL - "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da"

This place was huge.

My wife found a chair near the terminal entrance, on the right where the windows are in the photograph above.  My son and I made our way to check in, about 100-150 feet from my wife's location.  We checked in, obtained our boarding passes, checked our bags and returned to my wife.  We arrived at Heathrow four hours before our flight was scheduled to depart.  My wife requested I find a wheelchair.

Source:Skisteve

She was sitting near the B section, as seen in the above photograph.  The wheel chairs were down in the G section.  A fair distance from where she sat.  I walked down to section G.  Once I figured out where the chairs were located and who was in charge of them, I was told I couldn't have one because I was too early.  The chairs were needed for flights departing soon.  I was to return in 30 minutes and try again.  I returned to my wife without any wheels.

Source:passportdiary.com

My wife was uncomfortable, even with her leg up on our carry-on luggage loaded on the cart.  My son was off somewhere looking for chocolates to take home to a friend.  We sat and waited.

Twenty minutes later I made my way back to the wheelchair area.  This time, there were more wheelchairs in the corral.  I obtained a wheelchair and returned to help my wife into the chair and adjusted the foot rests.

We gathered all our belongings and made our way to security.  After security, which by the way was easy and unremarkable, we got on an elevator.  We went down one level.  

The gate level reminded me of a shopping mall.  Here is a list of the stores and diagram on the gate level.

Source:Flickr/terminal5insider

 The above image looks like the spot we sat for an hour or so waiting for our gate to be announced.  My son was off again looking for gifts as my wife sat with her leg up on a table beside her wheelchair.  I purchased a few muffins, cookies, a sandwich and a few drinks from EAT. and some candy from WHSmith.  The food was eaten before the gate was announced.

   
                                                     Source:tipsfortravellers

As time crawled along, the announcement was made for the departing gate.  We traveled down on an elevator to a train platform.  The train took us to another building where sat at the gate.
                 

We sat and waited, again.  By the time the boarding announcement was made, we were ready.  Because of my wife's casted leg, we boarded right after the Executive Club members.


None of our assigned seats were beside each other.  I sat farthest back.  I helped my wife into her seat and stowed her carry-on overhead.  I made my way to my seat.  My son's assigned seat was near an exit door with plenty of room in front of him to extend the legs of his his 6'4" frame.


We had requested a better seat location for my wife and her casted leg.  We were told repeatedly from first we checked in, there were no bulkhead or exit seats available.  Once on the plane one of the flight attendants saw our situation and commandeered a center row of three seats for my wife and myself.  I was called up by the attendant and joined my wife.  Her right leg was injured so she occupied the center and extended her leg onto the right seat and I took the left.  My son kept his exit seat and we were on our way home.


Three movies later we were over New York state.  The video monitor on the back of the seat before me, was an animated simulation of the plane location over land.  I tried to relate the animation with the actual land lights below, but never got it right.  At least not until we were about 200 feet above the ground just west of Philadelphia International Airport.


Not much had changed since my departure, as far as I could tell.  I was thankful we didn't need to interact with a TSA agent.


After we collected our bags, I called the parking garage.  I was told the bus would soon be at the airport to collect us.  Less than five minutes later we were loaded into the bus with our bags.  The check out was smooth at the garage.  A washed car awaited us with the engine running and the heater blowing hot air.  Within thirty minutes we were home.  I had work in the morning.

"Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da"

©Damyon T. Verbo - all rights reserved

Return Trip to Heathrow Terminal 5

My son, wife and I were ready to leave London on Friday.  We needed to get to Heathrow Airport.  Since we didn't rent a self-drive car we had several choices.  Overground/Underground, taxi or private hire minicab.  Seeing how we had problems on the Overground/Underground we took that choice out of the mix.  My daughter stepped in and hired a private minicab to take us to Heathrow.  

Source:StormCab

A Mercedes Vito Taxi Bus arrived at the apartment house door.  The driver helped us get our bags loaded into the cargo area of the bus.  My son sat in the front beside the driver.  My wife and I had the back with its three seats facing three seats.  There was plenty of room even with my wife's leg up on the seat for a few more people.  We started on our way through London.  I guess there are no bypass roads, for it seemed we went through the most congested areas of the city.

I haven't spoken much of the traffic in London, mostly because I didn't drive in it.  However, let me say I never want to drive in it, either.  What a mess.  The first thing I noticed the day we visited Harrod's is that there are no parking lanes along the city streets.  That may not seem like a big deal.  Philadelphia has no parking along the Market Street, but most other Philadelphia streets have parking on at least one side.  Without a buffer of parked cars along the street means there are huge, double decker buses traveling along the curb at a good clip.  If, you have a lapse of consciousness and walk too close to the curb ...  Let me just say it is a good thing that health care in UK is free.


Another practice that frightened me are bicycles or motorcycles traveling between the moving vehicles in an operator invented cycle lane.  On the way to Heathrow a motorcycle clipped the mirror of our taxi as it passed us driving between us and a double decker bus.  I admit, I have driven motorcycles in my youth.  I owned two small Yamahas.  I even did some illegal driving on shoulders around cars and zig zagging between cars from open space to open space, but never like these nuts between moving gargantuan vehicles that could squish you spewing your guts out like a toothpaste from a tube.


There was one time I passed a line of cars on 18th street near Rittenhouse Square.  I had a female passenger on the back and her knees spread out a bit farther aound me than did mine around the gas tank.  I was traveling at less than 5 MPH, probably just fast enough to keep my balance and travel in a straight line.  A passenger, in one of those cars I was passing on the right, opened the door and struck my passenger in her knee.  I am sure it hurt.  Really hurt.  The screaming and crying may have given me a clue.  I never did that again.  

Source:allworldcars
This photograph is not London but this is the kind of lane inventing of which I write

I guess if I needed to drive in London I would become familiar with its peculiarities, but my blood pressure would be through the roof and my eyes bulging out of my head like some kind of surprised cartoon character.  I think, when I return, I will be content to leave the London driving to the locals.

©Damyon T. Verbo - all rights reserved

Getting Into Photojournalist Mode

I arrived in Heathrow Airport early Monday morning a blogger.  I needed to start thinking as a photojournalist.  So, before I disembarked the plane, I took my camera, housed in a Tamrac shoulder bag, from the gym bag that was in overhead storage.  I had to be ready for any and all photo opportunities.  I was a blogger now.


I hadn't slept at all on the plane.  I watched one movie, several TV episodes and listened to music.  I must have been too stimulated to sleep.  After the plane landed and the signs were turned off, I stood in the aisle waiting to get into the new BA Terminal 5.  Years ago I watched an impressive TV commercial about this building.  The commercial had seals, rays, whales and bottlenose dolphins swimming in a water filled Terminal 5.  I thought, "It must really be impressive!"



I proceeded to the end of the aisle where the flight attendants stopped me.  The door was open and sunlight was streaming into the fuselage.  "Direct sunlight into the fuselage?", I thought.  Once given the all clear to advance I realized why.  We disembarked the plane via open stairs to the outdoors.  Stairs?!  Outdoors?!  The last time I disembarked outdoors was in 1977 when the frozen finger at JFK was unable to connect to the plane.  We had to use the inflatable escape chutes and slid to the snow and ice covered Tarmac.  That was the coldest winter I remember.  I swear the temperature went down below freezing at Halloween and didn't go above freezing until Easter.  That was over thirty years ago!  I was amazed that we were disembarking outside, down open stairs to an awaiting bus in the year 2011.  This is a new terminal!  It was opened to the public in 2008.  Three years ago!  Nonetheless, I descended the stairs and got on the bus, put down my bags, leaned against the padded wall and prepared for the ride to Terminal 5.


I told myself I had to realize I was in a foreign country.  They drive on the other side of the road.  They have a queen.  They speak a different language.  They have free healthcare.  They don't take care of their teeth.  I've got to relax, take it in stride, go with the flow.  When in Rome, do as the Romans do.  I enjoyed the ride.

Inside Terminal 5

After a short walk in Terminal 5, I found myself in line for border processing.  It was at this point I began thinking as a photojournalist; being a blogger and all.  I took my camera from the bag and started to capture some photographic images.  Unlike a paparazzo, I had an insecure feeling.  A feeling I wasn't allowed to be photographing in the border crossing area.  As soon as I had an image on the digital card, I put the camera back in the bag.  Because I was insecure, I missed some photo opportunities.  I wasn't thinking like a photojournalist 100% of the time.  I was trying to get my head into gear but I missed a few shifts.  As a matter of fact, I still find myself missing opportunities.  I often forget to carry my camera.  I forget to jot down notes.  I forget.  I forget quite a bit.


Once in my daughter's cozy apartment and not needing the flash equipment until the wedding reception in Grimsby on Saturday, I placed the gym bag with the Sunpak 611 system out of the way on top of a wardrobe of our rear bedroom.  It was off the floor and out of sight.  All I really needed in London was the camera; the camera and to think like a photojournalist.


©Damyon T. Verbo - all rights reserved