Visit to Ontario, the Flight to Toronto

Allison was supposed to call me when she got downtown. I was a bit concerned that it was 2:00pm, and I hadn’t heard from her. I was supposed to pick her up at 2:00 at the Stadium Skytrain station. We still had to go over to Kitsilano, pick up a wad of business cards, drive to the airport, park the car, check the bags, eat, and get on the plane. By 4:00pm. Time was running short.

I was half-way to the car when my cell phone rang. I was happy I’d ducked out when I did. A few minutes later, we were on our way to Kits. One of Allison’s friends (a graphic designer) had made new cards for Allison, but had left them at her friend’s place (Allison’s friend had already left on vacation). We stopped only long enough to pick them up and head towards Granville Street.

The trip down was uneventful. We dropped the car off at the Park N’ Fly, hopped a shuttle, and arrived at the terminal just after 3:00pm. So far, everything was going like clockwork. Figures we’d be the ones to find the broken gear.

Something told us that we were in for trouble when we stepped up to the counter. I said “virtual ticket”, and the clerk’s eyes glazed over. Even after we’d produced our identification, it took nearly 20 minutes to check us in. Colour me unimpressed. Allison was convinced this twit didn’t know how to use a computer. Everything was punched in with two fingers, and it took no less than five minutes to print the lousy boarding pass!

Finally, the luggage accepted, we made a bee-line for Harvey’s, and some much-needed food. All would have gone well, except for the guy in front of me who ordered nearly everything on the menu. Luckily, Allison was a while getting her magazine, so I finished about the same time she got back.

We weren’t late arriving at the gate, but the general boarding call was long since called. I felt sorry for the poor woman sitting on the aisle of our row. I think I hit her twice with my bag, and stepped on her toe. I don’t like having to take two bags on a plane — too inconvenient.

The flight was pleasant: faster than usual, quite smooth, a good in-flight movie (“Swing”), and decent meals. Well, almost decent. Although Canadian Airlines now has much more flavourful meals, they’ve skimped on a few things. Take dessert for example: It was a Halloween-sized Toblerone bar. What happened to the apple crisp, eh? Or the (somewhat disgusting) cheesecakes?

And the butter. Hello, what’s wrong with butter? No, they had to give us Becel. Not even decent margarine, but Becel. Blech! It’s bad enough that I can’t eat salted peanuts on the flight anymore, but I can’t have butter now. What is this world coming to?

We arrived in Toronto at 11:00pm EDT, about 20 minutes ahead of schedule. The idea was to grab the bags, grab a taxi, and head home. My dad, however, beat us to it, nearly scaring Allison half to death as we waited for our luggage.