Soggy flight, London night, car not right, see the sight

After months of preparation, Nazy and I, together with Melika, Tom and Tiger began our expedition to Cyprus and Beirut to celebrate Darius’ wedding with Christiane. Our plan was simple — a quick stop in London would allow us to rest and rejuvenate before flying on to Cyprus the..

“… next day?” I asked when apprised of the plan. “We’re going to rejuvenate in 24 hours?”

“Probably a little less than 24 hours,” Nazy corrected.

“Well, as long as we have a good plan,” I replied.

We flew from LA to London Heathrow on a gargantuan Airbus 380. (The upper deck of the aircraft was reserved for our luggage.) We were unable to easily convince young Tiger that it was actually time to sleep while we were in the air, but luckily, we had a lot of toy cars.

Consumer note: Do not fly British Airways if you like personal space. The seats were not quite large enough for Tiger, who is less than two years old. Even Nazy, famed for her petite look, was a bit cramped. And Melika, who made the mistake of flying while pregnant, was annoyed when the cabin crew brought out heavy equipment to help wedge her into a seat.

We were of course fully prepared for the lengthy flight. Our carry-on items were
heavy. Nazy, wary of airline food, brought a plate of food for Tiger that included almond butter, apple sauce and an almost tight-sealing cover. (Apple sauce is very slippery even when smoothly deposited on an airplane carpet.) And, in keeping with the theme, young Tiger somehow managed to bypass his diaper, a warm and wet experience that occurred while he was sitting on my lap. Nazy was understanding:

“It’s all right!” Nazy claimed as I as I sat (in a warm puddle).

“It’s all right?” I repeated, but with a question mark. “These are my favorite jeans.”

“You can go to the bathroom.”

“I don’t have to, Nazy. And Tiger doesn’t have to anymore.” I replied.

“You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be wet, Nazy.” I replied. “
Who installed that diaper?” I thought.

But, after a long, but smooth, flight we arrived in London on time and raring to go. We met my sister Wendy and then, colleagues from The Netherlands (Tinker Travel) had arranged ground transportation to the center of London where, using several zillion Amex points, Melika had booked the Stafford Hotel on St. James’ Place next to
Green Park. It is ..
“… a spectacular hotel, Nazy,” I noted.

“Is it like the ones you went to when you were traveling for HP?”

“Not exactly, my dear. “My HP-funded room would fit in the bathroom at the Stafford.”

At the Stafford

Everyone at the Stafford


Everyone (especially Wendy, who hadn’t been there before) wanted to ‘see’ London in the short time we had. While Melika and Tom went to a show, I asked the concierge about getting to Westminster. I knew it was close but..

”I wouldn’t go there, sir,” he replied. “The London Marathon is underway. It will be crowded.”

“Can we walk?”

“Oh no, sir1 The path is blocked.”

“Can I take the tube?”

“Oh no, sir, it is much too crowded. Go the other way: see the National History Museum.”

“Thanks,” I replied as I led Wendy, Tiger and Nazy toward
Green Park Station. We took The Tube to Westminster. We saw Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye (closed because of the marathon), Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross Station, the Thames and..

“Tiger
really wants to go on a double-decker bus,” Nazy said. And to punctuate her assertion, she bought him a bus ticket. I took him from Charing Cross to Trafalgar and then back down the Strand and back up again. At one of the stops, we went into a souvenir store; I got him a model bus and a black cab.

We met Tom and Melika and then hopped into a real black cab. Wielding Google and the iPhone, Melika found a highly rated Japanese restaurant.

“Head to Zuma,” I told the driver, “In Knightsbridge,” I added unnecessarily.

“Traffic is bad in that area,” the driver replied. “But I will get you there.” He continued. “
Zuma?” He thought? Bad choice.”

“Maybe we should see if they have space.” Tom, ever practical, suggested. Melika handed him the phone. (Tom’s phone bereft of charge and devoid of gigabytes: He had drained his week-long international allotment by the middle of the first day in London.) We could hear his half of the conversation.

“So you are completely booked? Tom said.

“It’s a party of five, plus a baby.” Tom interjected. “
If they are completely booked,” Tom thought, “Why are they asking about the size of our party?”

“Tell them the secret phrase,” I suggested, unprepared for Tom’s predictable request that I share that secret. In the end, we couldn’t get into the Zuma. Melika found an Indian alternative.

“You’ll enjoy that more,” the driver predicted. “People come out of Zuma hungry. They ask me to take them to a McDonalds.”

The Indian food was great. And they didn’t get upset when we spilled a glass of wine. (And we didn’t get upset when they spilled a dish of yogurt.) And nobody, except Tiger, got upset when Tiger dropped his toy double decker into the chicken curry.

Jet lag caught up with us that night. We fell asleep instantly, but woke up after a few short hours. The adults attempted to go back to sleep. Young Tiger, who had actually slept on the airplane and during part of the London Tour, thought it was daytime. He did not go back to sleep. (Note to astute readers: for some reason, Tiger’s parental associates, sharing his room, also failed to go back to sleep.)

Meanwhile, in our room, when Nazy woke, she was very, very thirsty. She poured the complementary bottle of water into her complementary glass.

“This glass is broken!” Nazy exclaimed jarring me awake.

“Broken?”

“It doesn’t fill up.”

“It’s upside down.”

“The carpet is wet.”

“Good night, my dear.”

The Tinker guys took care of our transport to Heathrow and the flight was smooth. Upon arrival, Tom, Melika and Tiger had booked a car to the hotel. I had rented a car from Fox car rental, but there was no Fox car rental counter at the airport and none of the people manning the counters had heard of Fox. But..

“Since I didn’t pay for the car and didn’t give them my credit card,” I explained to Nazy, “I can just get something from Avis.”

“We don’t have many cars,” the Avis clerk, noting my need, claimed. “Only one SUV, €89/day.”

I gasped.

“And 37 cents per kilometer.” the clerk continued.

“I’ll find Fox,” I told Nazy. (Fox car rental was hiding behind the Thrifty sign.)

I got a large Ford with a manual transmission, but…

“..
the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car.” I thought when I sat in what I expected to be the driver’s seat. “And the road signs are in Grεεk,”

Displaying either amazing (and misdirected) confidence in my ability or astonishing courage, Wendy and Nazy actually got into the car. They directed me to the hotel and pointed out every obstacle along the way.

When we arrived, we saw several people from Christiane’s family. None of them had rented a car because..

“… it’s just too difficult to drive on the wrong side of the road. It’s frightening.” Fadi explained.

These people are trained, fearless Beirut natives,” I thought. “They can navigate through the ruleless domain that is Lebanese traffic. They smoothly skirt potholes as big as lunar craters. They drive within mere millimeters of each other. And they are afraid to drive in Cyprus? What have I done?”

In Cyprus

Tom, Mel and Tiger Cyprus April 2016


The next day, Tom, Melika, Tiger (and an industrial strength car seat) joined Nazy (who should have known better) and me for a drive to Papos. The journey there was a success: The baby thought it was exciting and Melika didn’t give premature birth. The drive back was problematic because we couldn’t figure out how to get out of the city. Melika and Tom’s iPhones were dead (battery issues) and mine was on life-support. Tom was using Google Maps on my phone to get us out to the A6 highway.

“I think you can probably take the second exit from this roundabout,” Tom asserted.

“You think that I can probably?” I replied. “The navigation computer on my car at home doesn’t think she knows the way, She know she knows the way.”

“Maybe it should have been the first exit on the roundabout.”

“Really?” I replied looking for a place to turn around. “Shall I just make a couple of circuits before taking an exit?”

“That’s a good idea, But the battery..”

We actually made it back to the hotel. And now we’re waiting for the rest of the family to arrive — and for the wedding tomorrow. More news in the next issue of
The Weekly Letter.

For last week's letter, click here

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