Of Course We Couldn't Leave Like Regular Tourists Do!

It was inevitable. We had to leave. The three days whizzed by at the speed of light. On one hand, I was excited to get back to my own king-sized bed here in the States. But on the other…I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE! And I told Lenny of my intention. But alas, the time had come. So, reluctantly, we packed and headed back to Heathrow Airport.

We took a taxi back to Paddington Station, which was really neat. Our driver wove through several residential neighborhoods, so I had a chance to dream of living in one of them. Sure, I would have to win one helluva lottery jackpot…but I can dream.

The train ride back, as always, was easy as pie. We got to Heathrow in enough time to check in and get through security with ease. Or so we thought. When we hit the check-in terminal, we followed what we thought was the queue to check into British Airways. We kept walking looking for the end of the line…we didn’t find one! Finally an airport employee asked us if we had checked in (he must of seen the look of bemused terror on our faces). Lenny quipped that we were trying, if we could just find the end of the line.

Thankfully, the employee told us that we had to cut through this line to get to the “C” Check-in zone. We walked back from whence we came and found it. Whew. No line. It only took a few minutes to load up the suitcase for weighing and get our boarding passes. Finally through, we headed for security.

Remember that endless line we were talking about? Turns out, security was what the infinite queue was for. It was madness! It reminded me of the line for Space Mountain during the summer at Disneyland. Wall to wall people in a serpentine formation! There wasn’t anything to do but wait. Can’t blame the airport for wanting to be so careful. So for close to an hour and a half, we did.

One body scan (Lenny) and one random bag check (me) later, we cleared the security gates. I’ll give this to the airport employees…they’re a lot happier looking in Heathrow. It seems a lot easier to take the news that they had to dump out the bag you just neatly packed up when they say it with a smile. They seemed to mean it when they said, “I’m sorry to inconvenience you ma’am.” Maybe the TSA and the UK equivalent should do a trade. I’m sure I can fashion an argument of how that was going to ultimately help world peace. Let me work on that.

Lenny went to indulge in some duty free shopping. I found an internet terminal and sent word to the folks that we were alive, well, and heading home. When the flight called for boarding, we were raring to go. We settled into our seats and didn’t even mind that we were delayed on the ground for 45-minutes. Hey, these things happen. Besides, we were going to get back to Phoenix in the late afternoon. We would be fine.

Right. A funny thing happened just over the Isle of Man.

Okay...so I'm sitting in my seat 26A on the wing. We've been in the air for an hour or so. I'm grooving to my iPod and going through the manuscript revision of my novel. Then the plane starts to vibrate. It doesn’t vibrate in that “hey-this-is-turbulence” kind of way. It does it in that “oh-goodness-that's-not-good” kind of way. And mind you…all this is happening right under my feet.

I immediately take my headphones off and quietly asked Lenny, “Do you feel that?”

“Yeah,” he replied nonchalantly and returned to reading his magazine.

Okay. Maybe I was just dreaming. Lenny doesn’t seem worried. I was just overreacting. There’s no way the wing is going to break off and rip the plane in half and suck me out to the sky. There was no reason to even entertain that thought.

“This is your captain speaking. We apologize, but we are going to have to return to Heathrow….”

Don’t worry about it Lily. It’s nothing major…

“We have a mechanical problem…”

…did he say “problem” or did he say “failure?” Deep breaths, Lil. Nothing is wrong.

“Heathrow is aware of our situation and will be expecting us. We will have to circle over the Isle of Man so that we can dump some fuel…”

Of course you have to dump fuel. If we have too much, the plane will blow-up when we land!

“So, just sit back and relax…”

RELAX? Who can relax in this sardine can of a Boeing 747 with a bum wing! Damn you! Damn you and your heavenly accent, Captain!!!

“Our cabin crew will serve refreshments and we’ll keep you updated as information becomes available.”

Quit being so ridiculous Lily. Everything is fine. They would tell you if you were in any real danger. Sheesh, you’re starting to sound like a spaz.

THREE hours later (and possible knee damage from gripping it so hard), we landed safely back at Heathrow Airport. The cause of the vibration? As we filed out of our old plane, the lead steward was asked that question. He held out his hand and said, “The engineer just handed this to me.”

The best description I can say is that it was a metal pebble. A metal pebble no larger than a piece of gravel out of a fish tank. After seeing it, I can be perfectly honest with you. I HATED that pebble and everything it stood for. I wanted to grab it from the steward and chuck it off the plane! How DARE that pebble scare the crap out of me!

The food vouchers that British Airways provided us and a little more duty free shopping helped ease the sense of hatred and additional two hour wait for our new plane. I finally calmed down and convinced myself that the chances of our second plane being defective were minimal.

After eating a little dinner (we ate at 5pm…the last time we had eaten before that was 7:30am), I settled back into the internet kiosk and notified my family of the delay. Then I pecked out e-mails to FJ, Orchid, and BrownSuga. The day had flown by thanks to minor calamities. I chuckled as I wrote to FJ realizing that we had essentially spent an entire extra day in London. Be careful what you wish for indeed! As I closed out my e-mail to Fudgesicle Junkie, I typed out one final thought to him about the whole situation:

FJ, the delay did bring me to say this: When I said I could live in London...I meant living someplace like Bloomsbury, Kensington, or Belgravia. I DID NOT mean Heathrow Airport!

*sighs* Semantics sucks.

…but we’ll talk soon! Bye!
Lily