The Finishing Kilt.
Apr. 5th, 2005 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinMy last day in Aberdeen was quietly rushed - when you have a flight at 12 noon or so, your morning is not exactly hectic, but it's not exactly leisurely, either.
I was packed from the night before, so all that remained, once the cleaners showed up to the flat and started wreaking lemon-scented havoc, was to toss on my new Aberdeen University hoodie and my jacket, and head outside to wait for the taxi to the airport. Andy, helpfully, strode over to Tescos and got some Jaffa Cakes for me and my long, long flight home.
The initial short hop flight to Heathrow was delayed by about 40 minutes, so we both sat in the hard-backed chairs in the main concourse/check-in area, and people-watched a little as we quietly recapped the week. I had about 10 pounds left to my name in 'foreign' currency, so I bought up some chocolate bars and toffees, extra jam, and oatcakes, gifts for a couple of people back home. My carry-on was heavy.
As we strolled around the corner to get a couple sandwiches at the coffee shop, I finally saw a man in a kilt. The first I'd seen in Scotland, and the last, as he was just arriving on a flight, and striding purposefully with his family towards the baggage claim. Ah well. Such is life, in modern Scotland. Nary a kilt to be seen, until you've at last given up all hope.
The night previously we'd headed into town (Union St. thoroughfare), and backtracked a bit, off the main street and down a somewhat-steep little cobbled lane, to the Bassment, a cavernous shiny dark pub with a bunch of tables pushed together in the back to form little gaming areas for the geeks of Aberdeen. Andy and his fellow gamers were playing a Seventh Sea game. Led by an earnest and long-haired girl named Helen, they had some sort of showdown with some Very Important Woman, and then were trailing the circus (?) and finding elemental pendants with some serious magic attached to them. Andy and I had nachos (hi, Ozy!). I actually fell asleep sitting up for a few minutes at one point (and no one seemed to care), because I'd literally had no sleep the night before.
Security was a relative breeze at Aberdeen, and then I was approached by a matronly Scottish woman wielding a clipboard who asked all sorts of census data of me, and I complied, because I really had nothing better to do. I also got the impression that even though she was casual, and never asked my actual name, but instead rattled off lots of market research type questions, that she was with security personnel, and this was sort of a routine singling out thing. I wonder what made her pick me.
That flight was no-thrills and zonky for me, as I spent most of the flight passing out, with my hoodie smashed up into a ball as a pillow between me and the window shutter. At Heathrow, because my flight was so late, I simply plodded along steadily, heading straight for the international gates, stopping only once in the middle of this huge shopping corridor to get a bottle of water, using up the last of my pound coins and lightening my change purse considerably. Plod, plod, plod. Down to the gate, a long line, and then waiting for Group 4 to board.
Now, even though I picked out my seat for both of the long legs of the flight, somehow I ended up not in the exit rows, as I had requested, but one row right behind the exit rows. Especially frustrating on the return flight, seeing as how I had clicked on the center seat.
Serendipity gave me a family that had been split on seats and rows, and they gratefully forced me into an aisle seat, which made me incredibly happy.
I watched A Series of Unfortunate Events 1.5 times during that long, long flight. The bit about sanctuary, especially in my exhausted state, nearly had me a weeping mess, both times. Also watched some of the Spongebob Squarepants movie, but it became a bit much when I started becoming all narcoleptic and stuff.
What woke me up was finally inching down through Canada, and then Michigan, and then LOOPING our course in 4 squashy ovals over Lake Michigan, as we'd just let a storm go ahead of us into Chicago. A storm that caused tornado warnings, hail storms, and shut down O'Hare completely. On fumes, we toddled into Detroit to land, re-fuel, and get the paperwork to get us back to Chicago. As it was an international flight, we were quarantined to the plane the entire time. We didn't even get a gate. We sat, cranky and over-tired, on the tarmac, for about two or three hours or something. I bled my battery on my phone by talking to Tim and singing bits of Katamari Damacy songs to him, and I tried not to go crazy thinking about home and bed and clean clothes and room to stretch my legs. I was so, so tired.
Finally, we got the go-ahead, and at around 10 PM I was standing outside of Terminal 5, in Chicago, waiting for the Amazing Tim to come get me and bring me back into the city proper. At that point, I lost all will to take the train, so when he offered to schlep me, I sucked up my city girl pride and said, "Yes, please."
Which is all well and good, seeing as how I had oatcakes and toffee and extra jam for him and Ann, for taking care of my two kitties for me.
And that, as they say, was that. For Aberdeen, anyhow.
I was packed from the night before, so all that remained, once the cleaners showed up to the flat and started wreaking lemon-scented havoc, was to toss on my new Aberdeen University hoodie and my jacket, and head outside to wait for the taxi to the airport. Andy, helpfully, strode over to Tescos and got some Jaffa Cakes for me and my long, long flight home.
The initial short hop flight to Heathrow was delayed by about 40 minutes, so we both sat in the hard-backed chairs in the main concourse/check-in area, and people-watched a little as we quietly recapped the week. I had about 10 pounds left to my name in 'foreign' currency, so I bought up some chocolate bars and toffees, extra jam, and oatcakes, gifts for a couple of people back home. My carry-on was heavy.
As we strolled around the corner to get a couple sandwiches at the coffee shop, I finally saw a man in a kilt. The first I'd seen in Scotland, and the last, as he was just arriving on a flight, and striding purposefully with his family towards the baggage claim. Ah well. Such is life, in modern Scotland. Nary a kilt to be seen, until you've at last given up all hope.
The night previously we'd headed into town (Union St. thoroughfare), and backtracked a bit, off the main street and down a somewhat-steep little cobbled lane, to the Bassment, a cavernous shiny dark pub with a bunch of tables pushed together in the back to form little gaming areas for the geeks of Aberdeen. Andy and his fellow gamers were playing a Seventh Sea game. Led by an earnest and long-haired girl named Helen, they had some sort of showdown with some Very Important Woman, and then were trailing the circus (?) and finding elemental pendants with some serious magic attached to them. Andy and I had nachos (hi, Ozy!). I actually fell asleep sitting up for a few minutes at one point (and no one seemed to care), because I'd literally had no sleep the night before.
Security was a relative breeze at Aberdeen, and then I was approached by a matronly Scottish woman wielding a clipboard who asked all sorts of census data of me, and I complied, because I really had nothing better to do. I also got the impression that even though she was casual, and never asked my actual name, but instead rattled off lots of market research type questions, that she was with security personnel, and this was sort of a routine singling out thing. I wonder what made her pick me.
That flight was no-thrills and zonky for me, as I spent most of the flight passing out, with my hoodie smashed up into a ball as a pillow between me and the window shutter. At Heathrow, because my flight was so late, I simply plodded along steadily, heading straight for the international gates, stopping only once in the middle of this huge shopping corridor to get a bottle of water, using up the last of my pound coins and lightening my change purse considerably. Plod, plod, plod. Down to the gate, a long line, and then waiting for Group 4 to board.
Now, even though I picked out my seat for both of the long legs of the flight, somehow I ended up not in the exit rows, as I had requested, but one row right behind the exit rows. Especially frustrating on the return flight, seeing as how I had clicked on the center seat.
Serendipity gave me a family that had been split on seats and rows, and they gratefully forced me into an aisle seat, which made me incredibly happy.
I watched A Series of Unfortunate Events 1.5 times during that long, long flight. The bit about sanctuary, especially in my exhausted state, nearly had me a weeping mess, both times. Also watched some of the Spongebob Squarepants movie, but it became a bit much when I started becoming all narcoleptic and stuff.
What woke me up was finally inching down through Canada, and then Michigan, and then LOOPING our course in 4 squashy ovals over Lake Michigan, as we'd just let a storm go ahead of us into Chicago. A storm that caused tornado warnings, hail storms, and shut down O'Hare completely. On fumes, we toddled into Detroit to land, re-fuel, and get the paperwork to get us back to Chicago. As it was an international flight, we were quarantined to the plane the entire time. We didn't even get a gate. We sat, cranky and over-tired, on the tarmac, for about two or three hours or something. I bled my battery on my phone by talking to Tim and singing bits of Katamari Damacy songs to him, and I tried not to go crazy thinking about home and bed and clean clothes and room to stretch my legs. I was so, so tired.
Finally, we got the go-ahead, and at around 10 PM I was standing outside of Terminal 5, in Chicago, waiting for the Amazing Tim to come get me and bring me back into the city proper. At that point, I lost all will to take the train, so when he offered to schlep me, I sucked up my city girl pride and said, "Yes, please."
Which is all well and good, seeing as how I had oatcakes and toffee and extra jam for him and Ann, for taking care of my two kitties for me.
And that, as they say, was that. For Aberdeen, anyhow.
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:24 pm (UTC)MAN, I am doubleplusunchatty-like, today. :P
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:31 pm (UTC)because haggis nachos are just a CRIME
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:34 pm (UTC)*poses sexily with jalapenos*
*runs away*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 09:39 pm (UTC)Now see if you come visit Seattle then I will wear my kilt for you.
I actually prefer it to pants anymore, unless it is really really rainy or snowing.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 10:19 pm (UTC)You bear the Mark of the MOOer.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-06 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 06:46 pm (UTC)