I recently crossed the Atlantic to head over to Utah to catch up with some friends and attend a church conference before I crack on with flight school. It has been three years since I was last over and it could be a lot longer before I’m back – saying that though, if I can pop up sometime during foundation flight training while I’m in Arizona that would be a real treat.
We took a route most of us had never done before – Manchester-Paris-Salt Lake City. My sister had done it before and the rest of us were none the wiser. The mammoth journey started not long after I woke up at 02:30, only two hours after I went to sleep. It reminds me of the time I went to Ireland a few hours after a Muse concert. The drive to Manchester was fine, nothing to report there. We checked in at about 4:45. After spending probably thirty minutes in the line we got to the desk and were told that we had to use the electronic check-in at the back of the line. Fortunately they said we could skip back down the line to the desk. I would have been ever so slightly irritated had it been otherwise.
The electronic check-in machine didn’t work because we were connecting in Paris to the USA so back to the desk we went. All sorted. Time was short, we went straight through security, walked to the gate, sat there for ten minutes and then boarded. The flight to Paris was fine, very quick with not much to look at. The fun started when we arrived in Paris. We had a couple of hours before boarding our next flight and so were looking forward to a bit of breakfast. Thanks to the French security we had to pass through we had to say goodbye to breakfast. They were so slow it was untrue. No-one was in a hurry. There were as many people going through as there were in Manchester only much much slower. I wonder how many people the caused to miss flights. And how many breakfasts they caused to be skipped.
A few hours into the Atlantic crossing lunch was served.