30 Days Across the Big Pond
Day 30... The Rest of the Story
11 November 2009
The rest of the story is being brought to you by Heineken Bier... Amsterdam's Finest of Brews!
Click on the above photos to view the larger versions of Heineken's iconic Shire horses
But there are only enough entries to cover up to the 29th day of the 30 Days Across the Big Pond. I thought to myself while reviewing the installments made for my epic adventure. Here is the rest of the story.
Day 30 was spent traveling back home to Philadelphia for this traveler, photographer and writer of prose.
My first flight across the Big Pond had me sitting between two exceptionally large people, causing the air in the cabin to smell like a locker room. The space in the world traveler seats or coach section of the airplane could have been comfier if I had been sitting between two lovelies, like from the bevy of beauties with whom I became acquainted along the way on my past trip. On the return flight of my first adventure in 2007, I had an isle seat in coach, which wasn't too cramped for space; however, two kids were sitting in back of me who were taking great pleasure in kicking the bottom and pushing the rear of my reclined seat. Even when I put the the backrest to its upright position, the little gremlins continued taunting me to see what I had assumed was my breaking point. I didn't lose my cool. Their mother was sitting to my right, and she was quite a honey with a British accent that made me melt in my seat. Her husband was to her right.
I leaned over to the lady and said in a lowered tone of voice, "Excuse me, I hate to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you would mention nicely to your children behind me, I've just had surgery on my buttocks and the incessive kicking of the bottom of my seat is causing me pain."
She looked at me while almost restraining a smile and a laugh, but was unsuccessful and said while chuckling, "You must be joking, right?" I didn't bat an eyelash. "I will take care of it straight away," the woman responded. After reading the riot act to the children, saying if they kept it up, one would have to sit between me and their father, while the mother would sit with the other. The kids were angels for the rest of the journey starting shortly thereafter.
The trip over and the return flight back home from the past 30 days over the big pond had many unoccupied seats with rows sporadically empty. Coming into the UK, my assigned seat was next to another extremely large individual. I waited for after takeoff when the seatbelt sign was turned off and moved to an empty row. That was wonderful! Returning home, no one claimed the window seat next to me, so I moved over and was able to stretch out. That certainly was lucky for me.
I had some time to kill on Monday morning, the 9th, before my flight took off from Heathrow. I checked out of the hotel and left the emission zone of London in enough time to avoid either having to pay for the privilige or get a fine for driving there after 7 AM. I took the A4 out of town and hopped onto the M4 past Heathrow and headed west towards Reading to check out the countryside. I grabbed some breakfast at one of the service areas that had an Internet hot spot, on which I took advantage to order a taxi online to meet me in Philadelphia at the airport that night at 8:30 P.M., Eastern Standard Time. After fueling up with petrol, I got off the M4 and checked out Windsor Castle until returning to Heathrow. My last day in England saw rain once again and hampered picture-taking anything worthwhile outdoors, but in my minds eye, I'll always remember the views.
Back at the airport, I drove the Fiat to the rental agency. It's amazing how one can form an attachment to an inanimate object. I spent a lot of time in that car and it was always good to me. When my Cooper wears out, I'm considering buying a Bravo. It seems to be quite a reliable vehicle.
While the car-rental associate checked the vehicle for damage, he pointed out the scratched left front-wheel cover that had met quite a few curbs during the past thirty days. He also pointed out scratches at various locations on both sides of the auto. Fortunately, I had retained the damage report from when I rented the car, which had little circles and arrows pointing to all dings and abrasions presently noted to me. Even the left front-wheel cover had a circle denoting damage. Another American must have rented the car before me.
"Aha," he said. "Here's a chip in the windshield."
"No problem," I told him. "I purchased all the various insurances available."
"Nay," he replied. "Chips in the windshield aren't covered."
"What is that going to cost?" I inquired.
"Oh, about 50 quid," he said.
I felt my blood pressure rising and my hands beginning to shake. "You mean to tell me that after I had spent over 1,000 pounds on bloody insurance, I'm going to be charged 50 quid for a fucking chip in the windshield?" I said through clenched teeth. "I demand to speak to your superior." Steam must have been coming out of my ears. Once inside, I had a little time to cool off as the manager was waiting on a customer. When she finished, she walked over and asked if she could help me. "Yes, you can," I replied and began to complain to her about having to pay 50 pounds for a chip that one can barely see in the windshield of the Fiat, after paying so much for insurance I really didn't need.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but it's company policy that up to 500 quid in damages is your responsibility!" Of course, this was written in small print on the contract, another fine example about how life is filled with disclaimers. At this point, I was having an extremely hard time contolling my anger. I didn't want to lose it in front of everyone in the rental office. Besides, the manager was a sweet, young thing, and I didn't want to say anything to hurt her feelings or to possibly land me in Heathrow Airport's hoosegow.
"Very well," I responded and went on to say, "I do a considerable amount of traveling and rent vehicles most of the times," I added. "Not only will I never use this company again, but I will be writing a formal letter of complaint to your corporate office, expressing my dissatisfaction with this branch and the company in general!"
She told me to wait a minute, that she had a solution and took my paperwork to her office. Upon returning, she presented a new bill to me with 50 quid subtracted from the original total, which was reinserted as payment for the chip in the windshield. The new invoice totaled the same as the original, and I didn't have to pay an additional 50 pounds after all. The rental agent was a very smart young lady and a very good customer service representative. I felt like I had beat the system and was ready for the flight home. I thanked her for her patience and went on my way.
I was able to catch some sleep on the flight to Philadelphia and was somewhat rested upon landing and going through customs. My online resevation went through as evidenced by a cab driver who was holding up a sign with my last name on it, waiting for me on the other side of the customs barrier. We loaded the laptop, my clothes bag, camera case and the suitcase from hell into the boot, or shall I say, "trunk" of the cab; and I headed for home.
It is now going on my third day back in the States, and I still haven't shaken off jet lag; but tonight, Heineken beer is helping me to transgress from Greenwich Mean Time back to Eastern Standard Time. I've been getting up at 4 A.M. That's equivalent to 9 A.M. in the UK, and 10 A.M. in Europe. Tonight, I'm forcing myself to stay up late to come back full circle again. Give me a few more days and I'll be back on Philadelphia time.
In closing, the following photograph is one last parting shot of my favorite city in the whole wide world, taken during my 30 days across the big pond.
With all the bicycles in the above photograph, how can you not know what city it is?
The End
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All pictures and content © Slicker-Productions 2009
