Our flight was early, so we had an early morning. Well, early for some in this family. For me, it was normal.
Packed and ready, downstairs, with cab called so we could get to the airport. The taxi arrived on time, we loaded up, and with middle fingers to the Premier Inn Dublin as we sped away.
We had to walk some distance through the airport. And by “some”, I mean “most”. We were checked in quickly, through security swiftly, and free to (finally) have breakfast. We were early – because, y’know, it’s me – and that give us time to settle and relax.
The lounge was full, so finding seats wasn’t easy. I kept eyeing the bar to get another Beamish, the taps of which beckoned me. Even I have standards, however, and drinking that early would definitely receive disapprovals. It would have to wait for another trip.
We got to our gate when we realized that we hadn’t yet filed our tax paperwork to get a refund. Thankfully, being early, I could do that. But it meant I would get nearly 10,000 steps before I had even boarded the plane. Still, a bit of extra money is not a bad thing.
We left through the same gate we arrived at, walking across the same tarmac, very possibly to the same plane. We all settled in for our flight home. Unlike our trip from London two years ago, this flight left on time.
It was uneventful. A bit of food, a few movies. Flying west is much easier than flying east, as you’re not losing time. (Unless you cross the international date line, then all bets are off.) Certainly flying from Western Europe to Western Canada is easy.
Off the plane, down the long hallways, through Immigration (now completely electronic and relatively quick), to wait almost an hour for our bags. We watched the clock vigilantly, as we desperately wanted to get the boys back from Springbank Pet Resort today, and not wait until tomorrow. As usual, the bag return took forever.
Out through Customs without a pause, onto the shuttle bus, to find our car waiting for us in the Park ‘N Jet lot. And the car wouldn’t open. None of the buttons worked. I had to use the built-in key in the fob to unlock the car door. Not a single light. The battery was dead.
We’d had a hint of this a few weeks earlier, but I had passed it off as a minor inconvenience. This was a decidedly different matter, possibly a battery replacement. Tomorrow’s issue, not today’s. Fortunately, the Park N’ Jet has a jump service – it just took 30 minutes to get someone to come out in the truck.
Getting home, I dropped off everyone and the bags, grabbed the carriers, and went out to Springbank, barely making the pick up time. Neither cat was particularly happy, though the girls were received to have their furry siblings home again.
Flying home is always a strange experience. It’s a long delay in a day that stretches out one’s sense of time. One moment you’re in a completely different country, the next you’re back at home wondering what just happened. There’s definitely a gradient of change, but it evaporates like water on hot steel. I suspect it’ll be another day until things feel normal again.
In any case, it’s good to be home.
