Refunds abound while BOBOLYNE Pilots stop for hamburgers
It has been another fun and activity filled week. While we continue to settle into the new home and enjoy the newest granddaughter, we also had time for a cross-continent trip to a wedding in Montreal and a visit from Mitra and Stefan. The week began very auspiciously…
“We got a refund check, Nazy!” I exclaimed in delight. “The medication insurance provider says that we were overcharged on the copay.”
Nazy, suspicious, was able to control her enthusiasm. She knew that there are only two things that were more expensive in California than they were in Switzerland: internet services and medical care. Neither of these, by the way, are superior to those offered in Switzerland. The Internet is a monopoly and medical care is a travesty.
Aware of the background, Nazy asked about the refund.
Discarding the lengthy apology letter, I opened the sealed envelope with a check..
“… for 51 cents!” I exclaimed. “Now that’s a small check,” I thought.
Our trip to Montreal was unmarred by our normal travel difficulties. There were, instead, abnormal difficulties. We zipped through security at LAX and boarded an (unexpected) on-time flight to Washington Dulles Airport.
Note: Dulles Airport is the most boring airport on the planet. As the planet’s dullest airport, it exudes the ‘charm’ of an abandoned 1950s era strip mall with airplanes.
Amazingly, our connecting airplane was not only at the gate, our departure gate was adjacent to our arrival gate. Things looked good until the gate agent announced that the crew had landed at a different terminal and would take “some time” to make the trek. It turned out that “some time” can be defined as “more than an hour”. Then, when they arrived, carrying hamburger bags and soft drinks, they said that they had to inspect the airplane before boarding could begin. I overheard one of the stewardesses complain as she walked to the jetway:
“The line at the hamburger stand was really slow,” she noted.
“Nazy! They stopped at a McDonalds before coming to our airplane!” I explained.
“It wasn’t a McDonalds Dan. It was the hamburger stand in Terminal A.”
“Our airplane is leaving an hour late because the abydocomist pilot wanted a hamburger?”
We arrived in Burlington, Vermont a bit after midnight. Our carefully planned itinerary called for short stay and an early drive to Montreal. Our late arrival at the hotel meant that the room we had requested was ‘not available’. We reluctantly accepted a multi-bedroom suite.
From Burlington, it is a very short drive to Montreal. We left early… well, not too early and within 40 minutes we were at the border. Canadian authorities did a rigorous search of the car in front of us — emptying the trunk and looking through all the luggage. We were, therefore, a bit wary as well pulled up. After the preliminaries (Where do you live? — Where are you going?) he got right to the point.
“Are you bringing any guns, knives, mace or other weapons into Canada?”
“Of course not.” I replied. “We are from California, not Texas.”
“Okay,” the policeman replied. “Can you please tell your wife to sign her passport?”
“My wife?”
“Yes. She must sign it before you try to return,” he continued. “They are not very smart on the other side,” he thought.
Note: Nazy has been to the UK, Cyprus and Lebanon with that passport — as well as back to the USA. No one noticed the missing signature until now.
Luckily, most Canadians are polite — and didn’t share their thoughts (“We should build a wall and make the Americans pay for it.&rdquo
with us. (Most Canadians — not all.)
The drive into the city was fraught — every bridge, highway, byway, boulevard, street, lane, cul de sac, freeway, motorway, driveway, parking lot and road was under construction. Our navigation system, sensing that we were floating in the St. Lawrence River, was completely hopeless. In the end, I just headed for the tall buildings and hoped.
We arrived in time for a late lunch at a trendy Montreal eatery (Les Enfants Terribles). I especially enjoyed my lunch, but Nazy says that I spent too much time scratching my..
As is the case with all weddings, we had time to visit relatives. In the photo, Nazy is dancing with her sisters Shahrzad and Saphura) and her cousin’s son (Bijan). We saw cousins and their offspring from all over the world. Nazy and I also enjoyed a delightful stay with Uncle Ali and Nini.
The wedding was a quiet and low-key affair — in the same sense that Meghan and Harry’s wedding was quiet and low key. It was an event for the ages. The ceremony was held in a Grεεk Orthodox Church. The reception dinner was at the Royal Montreal Golf Club, a beautiful venue founded in 1873 and chartered by Queen Vitoria, it is the oldest Golf Club in North America. Our trip home was smooth — except for the 40 minute wait at the US border and a very short connection in Newark.
Back home, we continued to unpack. Nazy was focused on the…
“.. Waterford Crystal, Dan.”
“Yes, I know. Would you like me to help?”
“I’ll do it, Dan. These are very fragile,” Nazy replied. “You won’t be careful,” Nazy thought.
And, while she was thinking, a liqueur glass tumbled to the floor and s h a tt e r ed.
“Oh!” Nazy exclaimed. “We only had six of these and they don’t make them anymore.”
“Maybe I can find a replacement on the web,” I replied. “I am so glad that I didn’t drop it,” I thought.
“They don’t make them any more!” Nazy repeated. “You’ll never find one.”
“You’re thinking BI,” I replied.
“BI?”
“Before Internet.”
I didn’t find one — but I did find a set of four. And the price was less than what we’d paid, for one, in Waterford. The crystal cabinet looks great.
While we were away, Tiger and Arrow continued to grow up.
Tiger focused on zooming around on the bicycle that Darius and Christiane gave him for his birthday.
Veracity note: After an unfortunate encounter with a thorny rosebush, Tiger zoomed at a somewhat reduced speed.
“And, Dan!” He exclaimed when we returned. “We have to take the training wheels off.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Maybe we should cut down the rose bushes too,” I thought.
At least he’s wearing a helmet.
While Tiger was racing around the driveway, Arrow, getting reconciled to the arrival of a baby, was busy developing a ‘cool’ gene.
Mitra and Stefan drove up from Los Angeles for the holiday weekend — to see us, Tiger, Arrow and, of course, the new baby — Azelle. More next week.
“We got a refund check, Nazy!” I exclaimed in delight. “The medication insurance provider says that we were overcharged on the copay.”
Nazy, suspicious, was able to control her enthusiasm. She knew that there are only two things that were more expensive in California than they were in Switzerland: internet services and medical care. Neither of these, by the way, are superior to those offered in Switzerland. The Internet is a monopoly and medical care is a travesty.
Aware of the background, Nazy asked about the refund.
Discarding the lengthy apology letter, I opened the sealed envelope with a check..
“… for 51 cents!” I exclaimed. “Now that’s a small check,” I thought.
Our trip to Montreal was unmarred by our normal travel difficulties. There were, instead, abnormal difficulties. We zipped through security at LAX and boarded an (unexpected) on-time flight to Washington Dulles Airport.
Note: Dulles Airport is the most boring airport on the planet. As the planet’s dullest airport, it exudes the ‘charm’ of an abandoned 1950s era strip mall with airplanes.
Amazingly, our connecting airplane was not only at the gate, our departure gate was adjacent to our arrival gate. Things looked good until the gate agent announced that the crew had landed at a different terminal and would take “some time” to make the trek. It turned out that “some time” can be defined as “more than an hour”. Then, when they arrived, carrying hamburger bags and soft drinks, they said that they had to inspect the airplane before boarding could begin. I overheard one of the stewardesses complain as she walked to the jetway:
“The line at the hamburger stand was really slow,” she noted.
“Nazy! They stopped at a McDonalds before coming to our airplane!” I explained.
“It wasn’t a McDonalds Dan. It was the hamburger stand in Terminal A.”
“Our airplane is leaving an hour late because the abydocomist pilot wanted a hamburger?”
We arrived in Burlington, Vermont a bit after midnight. Our carefully planned itinerary called for short stay and an early drive to Montreal. Our late arrival at the hotel meant that the room we had requested was ‘not available’. We reluctantly accepted a multi-bedroom suite.
From Burlington, it is a very short drive to Montreal. We left early… well, not too early and within 40 minutes we were at the border. Canadian authorities did a rigorous search of the car in front of us — emptying the trunk and looking through all the luggage. We were, therefore, a bit wary as well pulled up. After the preliminaries (Where do you live? — Where are you going?) he got right to the point.
“Are you bringing any guns, knives, mace or other weapons into Canada?”
“Of course not.” I replied. “We are from California, not Texas.”
“Okay,” the policeman replied. “Can you please tell your wife to sign her passport?”
“My wife?”
“Yes. She must sign it before you try to return,” he continued. “They are not very smart on the other side,” he thought.
Note: Nazy has been to the UK, Cyprus and Lebanon with that passport — as well as back to the USA. No one noticed the missing signature until now.
Luckily, most Canadians are polite — and didn’t share their thoughts (“We should build a wall and make the Americans pay for it.&rdquo
with us. (Most Canadians — not all.)The drive into the city was fraught — every bridge, highway, byway, boulevard, street, lane, cul de sac, freeway, motorway, driveway, parking lot and road was under construction. Our navigation system, sensing that we were floating in the St. Lawrence River, was completely hopeless. In the end, I just headed for the tall buildings and hoped.
We arrived in time for a late lunch at a trendy Montreal eatery (Les Enfants Terribles). I especially enjoyed my lunch, but Nazy says that I spent too much time scratching my..
As is the case with all weddings, we had time to visit relatives. In the photo, Nazy is dancing with her sisters Shahrzad and Saphura) and her cousin’s son (Bijan). We saw cousins and their offspring from all over the world. Nazy and I also enjoyed a delightful stay with Uncle Ali and Nini.
The wedding was a quiet and low-key affair — in the same sense that Meghan and Harry’s wedding was quiet and low key. It was an event for the ages. The ceremony was held in a Grεεk Orthodox Church. The reception dinner was at the Royal Montreal Golf Club, a beautiful venue founded in 1873 and chartered by Queen Vitoria, it is the oldest Golf Club in North America. Our trip home was smooth — except for the 40 minute wait at the US border and a very short connection in Newark.
Back home, we continued to unpack. Nazy was focused on the…
“.. Waterford Crystal, Dan.”
“Yes, I know. Would you like me to help?”
“I’ll do it, Dan. These are very fragile,” Nazy replied. “You won’t be careful,” Nazy thought.
And, while she was thinking, a liqueur glass tumbled to the floor and s h a tt e r ed.
“Oh!” Nazy exclaimed. “We only had six of these and they don’t make them anymore.”
“Maybe I can find a replacement on the web,” I replied. “I am so glad that I didn’t drop it,” I thought.
“They don’t make them any more!” Nazy repeated. “You’ll never find one.”
“You’re thinking BI,” I replied.
“BI?”
“Before Internet.”
I didn’t find one — but I did find a set of four. And the price was less than what we’d paid, for one, in Waterford. The crystal cabinet looks great.
While we were away, Tiger and Arrow continued to grow up.
Tiger focused on zooming around on the bicycle that Darius and Christiane gave him for his birthday.
Veracity note: After an unfortunate encounter with a thorny rosebush, Tiger zoomed at a somewhat reduced speed.
“And, Dan!” He exclaimed when we returned. “We have to take the training wheels off.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Maybe we should cut down the rose bushes too,” I thought.
At least he’s wearing a helmet.
While Tiger was racing around the driveway, Arrow, getting reconciled to the arrival of a baby, was busy developing a ‘cool’ gene.
Mitra and Stefan drove up from Los Angeles for the holiday weekend — to see us, Tiger, Arrow and, of course, the new baby — Azelle. More next week.
For last week's letter, please click here
Arrow looking cool
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