The final day of any epic trip is always a bittersweet occasion, on the one hand I was looking forward to going home and at least back to a normal sleep pattern, on the other I didn't want the holiday to end. Back when we were booking the flights it was significantly cheaper to fly home in two stages, Miami > Boston > London. This seemed like an excellent idea at the time but a rubbish one when it meant the final day was cut significantly shorter as a result.
The first flight was at 14:00, but we hadn't been on an airboat or seen any alligators yet, surely key parts of any visit to Florida. This meant an early start then following the rental car's sat nav to 'Everglades Safari' which was allegedly 43 minutes from the hotel. Sadly the rental car's sat nav was set to avoid toll roads so essentially took us on a route mainly comprised of dawdling drivers and traffic lights (red ones as a rule.) Alistair observed that it was no wonder Americans end up shooting each other with traffic and driving like this.......
As we got within ten miles of our target we spotted an alternative venue which won out by virtue of being available immediately and giving assurances the airboat tour would fit in with our schedule. A tour was leaving almost immediately following a short look round the on site zoo. I am sure they do this for all their guests but soon after arrival it became apparent they had named an alligator after me.....
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| An airboat - a bit like the one in gentle Ben |
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| My namesake's enclosure (alligator not shown) |
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| A wild alligator taken from the boat. |
The airboat tour took around an hour and no fewer than six alligators were spotted. Despite usually being shown as bright green and wearing sunglasses they were actually quite well camouflaged. The good thing was they were used to airboats passing so did not make any effort to hide as we passed.
By ignoring the car's sat nav and going on a toll road the trip back to the airport went quite well until arrival at the cluster f**k that is Miami airport. The airport roads are like spaghetti around the terminal with tiny and cryptic sign posts to the rental car return centre. Despite the airport's best efforts we were able to get to the desk in plenty time to check in for our flight and catch Mexican GP FP3 in an airport bar. Whilst in there it appeared that the light rain I had experienced earlier in the day had developed:
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| Miami airport - "damp" |
The flight to Boston started off well and I managed about an hour's sleep. Things took a turn for the worse when the stewardess decided that my trip could be enhanced if she tipped a litre of water down my leg and mainly into my shoe. (I know it was a litre as I was able to weigh my left sock and compare with the weight of the dry right one.) Luckily at that point there were only two hours of discomfort to go before a shower and sock change in the BA lounge at Boston.
In general I am a huge fan of British Airways and when given a choice will always choose them over rivals when possible. However on this leg of the journey they really dropped the ball (ball being a metaphor for my luggage, but more on that later.) The lady at the check in desk informed us that "the flight is oversold and we don't have any seats for you." This was presumably because we were arriving relatively late for check in, although still two hours prior to departure, we had attempted to check in on line the night before but that wasn't working either. Eventually we were assigned seats but not near each other and Alistair in a centre seat:
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| Yellow arrow = Alistair's view of my seat |
That said the seating on the plane represented the farthest I had been from Alistair in ten days so it might not have been the worst thing ever, it also meant I was out of earshot of his snoring. Before departure I made it quite clear to the two ladies sat to my right that they had better go to the toilet NOW because I would not be moving again. I am not sure they understood because they seemed to wait until I had been asleep for five minutes before tapping me on the arm and requesting I move. (to be clear I was not actually rude to said ladies at any point.)
The flight seemed to go fairly quickly helped by a combination of reading and sleep leaving me re-vitalised for a 5:45 arrival at Heathrow. After waiting at the baggage carousel for about half an hour it became clear that our luggage was enjoying the USA so much it didn't want to come home. BA were pretty good in these circumstances and were able to confirm the bags were in Boston still and would be on the next flight in a few hours. For me this turned out to be excellent news as it meant my bag would be delivered to home so I didn't have to schlep across London with it. The chap at the desk next to me was angry as his house keys were in his missing bag, which despite it being none of my business made me angry at him for being such an idiot (when it came to packing at least, he may well have been very clever in other ways, but I doubt it.)
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| Looking well rested after the flight home |
Next I said an emotional goodbye to Alistair with a firm handshake and a "see you soon," and headed for the Heathrow express and then the train onwards to Cambridge. I punctuated the journey with breakfast at McDonalds and a final bit of tourism:
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| Platform 9 3/4 - But in a mirror for reasons that elude me |
The latter was for the benefit of someone we met on the trip who didn't know Kings Cross existed beyond Harry Potter. The final train and taxi home from Cambridge went fairly smoothly and I got home late morning for some well needed sleep.
It has been a fantastic ten days holiday but now I return to the real world with a bang. Epiblog and full summing up tomorrow!
P.S. my bag arrived home at 21:45.
P.P.S. Simon and Garfunkle as I was homeward bound.
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