Some may strike you as being over kill, but it wouldn't be any fun to be stranded in a foreign place with no passport, money, or credit cards. Remember how the Cabo hotel manager laughed as he watched two young couples charge down the street at full gallop to catch their cruise ship? Were that us, we would not be laughing...
Passport Carrier
Richie has a navy blue square suspended from a stout cord. There are slots in it for your passport(s) and the square is only slightly larger than the passports for a nice snug fit. This item is worn under his shirt or sweater. Meaning that if he had to run for any reason, the passports won't fall out.
The Cash Protector
Richie has what looks like a square pocket, with a zipper across the top and a wide belt loop attached to it. Put the money/credit cards in this "pocket," zip it shut and run your belt through the loop, putting the "pocket" inside the pants.
Packing Aid
For international travel, I buy the requisite number of bags of new underpants. Not because I can hear my mother saying, "Always wear clean underwear - what if there's an accident?"
No, I do this for space reasons. There they are, five or six pairs, all neatly rolled and crammed into a plastic bag. Which then gets stuck in an odd corner in the suitcase.
Incidentally I have checked with emergency medical personnel and they are much more interested in why you are bleeding from both ears than the state of your underwear.
The Insurance Policy
I put a pair of adult underpants in my carry-on bag and wear the third. Picture it, you are all settled in your seat, have dined and are watching a movie, sipping at your wine and you think, "I should get up and go to the bathroom - I'll go at the end of this scene; everyone was talking about it."
And then the Captain comes on and says, "Er, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to be flying through a short spell of turbulence - I'll try to get us through it as quickly as I can but for now I'm going to turn on the seatbelt sign. Flight attendants, strap yourselves in."
Now sheer fear has been added to your, uh, Comfort Level. And the turbulence doesn't stop. And you really, really have to go! Enter the bliss - you're safe in your maximum strength Depends!
Happy trails to you!
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Today's Excitement
Saturday, October 5th
From 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. The Costumed Dog Contest
at the Redondo Beach Civic Center, Diamond and Pacific Coast Highway
I'm looking forward to posting Richie's photos after it.
LATER THAT SAME DAY....
At 2:15 p.m., we arrived on scene to discover empty tents, a few people and a grand total of two dogs. They were resting under a table and were Assistance Dogs - puppies, really.
So - nothing at all. (sigh)
From 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. The Costumed Dog Contest
at the Redondo Beach Civic Center, Diamond and Pacific Coast Highway
I'm looking forward to posting Richie's photos after it.
LATER THAT SAME DAY....
At 2:15 p.m., we arrived on scene to discover empty tents, a few people and a grand total of two dogs. They were resting under a table and were Assistance Dogs - puppies, really.
So - nothing at all. (sigh)
Friday, October 4, 2013
.JPG)
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Style vs. Stodgy
It's considered rude to compare hosts, but when you have paid for a specific service, you should get it, no matter who or what the host is.
A case in point would be the contrast between service on British Air (Sept. 7, 2013, and Sept. 15, 2013 to London) with that given us on an Air France flight to Paris and back to LAX in August of 2012. Both airlines sold us tickets on watered-down Business and Jumped Up Coach.
World Traveler Plus
Coming home, we were offered the following menu:
Apple, celery and carrot salad
Choice of - Seared fillet of British beef with Port wine sauce, creamed leeks, roasted pumpkin and roasted new potatoes OR Roasted breast of corn-fed chicken with wild mushroom and fines herbes sauce, creamy mashed potatos, carrot batons and savoy cabbage.
Dessert was dark chocolate and butterscotch.
All of the above was served British Air style which is a rolling food cart with the entree of your choice more or less pitched at your tray. We already knew that if we ordered a mixed drink, we'd be doing the mixing, but being handed a plastic bottle with a screw top and your choice of wines "Red or white?" was a bit over the top.
Premiere Voyager offered:
Priority status and the invitation to make yourself at home in the airport lounge with free drinks and food.
Being greeted with a glass of champagne before take-off.
At dinner, the food is served course by course, starting with a stand-alone amuse bouche, followed by salad (lobster, in this case), followed by the entree, individually served on a plate and not in a container and after the cheese course, your choice of chocolates from a box as well as little containers - a darling miniature hatbox, a mini-purse - with additional sweets. There were four wine choices, each glass was individually poured from real wine bottles.
There was a difference, too, in attitude. The French flight attendants were focused on the passengers, keeping watchful eyes for an empty wine glass or a water bottle that needed replenishment. British Air's ladies did have warm and cordial manners, but only to each other. I can't remember ever having seen a crew that so clearly regarded us as cattle and tiresome cattle at that.
Ta not very much, British Air.
A case in point would be the contrast between service on British Air (Sept. 7, 2013, and Sept. 15, 2013 to London) with that given us on an Air France flight to Paris and back to LAX in August of 2012. Both airlines sold us tickets on watered-down Business and Jumped Up Coach.
World Traveler Plus
Coming home, we were offered the following menu:
Apple, celery and carrot salad
Choice of - Seared fillet of British beef with Port wine sauce, creamed leeks, roasted pumpkin and roasted new potatoes OR Roasted breast of corn-fed chicken with wild mushroom and fines herbes sauce, creamy mashed potatos, carrot batons and savoy cabbage.
Dessert was dark chocolate and butterscotch.
All of the above was served British Air style which is a rolling food cart with the entree of your choice more or less pitched at your tray. We already knew that if we ordered a mixed drink, we'd be doing the mixing, but being handed a plastic bottle with a screw top and your choice of wines "Red or white?" was a bit over the top.
Premiere Voyager offered:
Priority status and the invitation to make yourself at home in the airport lounge with free drinks and food.
Being greeted with a glass of champagne before take-off.
At dinner, the food is served course by course, starting with a stand-alone amuse bouche, followed by salad (lobster, in this case), followed by the entree, individually served on a plate and not in a container and after the cheese course, your choice of chocolates from a box as well as little containers - a darling miniature hatbox, a mini-purse - with additional sweets. There were four wine choices, each glass was individually poured from real wine bottles.
There was a difference, too, in attitude. The French flight attendants were focused on the passengers, keeping watchful eyes for an empty wine glass or a water bottle that needed replenishment. British Air's ladies did have warm and cordial manners, but only to each other. I can't remember ever having seen a crew that so clearly regarded us as cattle and tiresome cattle at that.
Ta not very much, British Air.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Continuing
I got interrupted by this computer. Apologies...
Tattler was founded in 1901 and is a glossy aimed at the nobility and rich people. The October issue features:
A Field Guide to Bores - How to spot and when to swerve
Invasion of the Princesses - How London became a sanctuary for stateless royals
Harry (heart shape with the word "loves" on it) Cressie - 20 Things you need to know about Cressida Bonas who is apparently Prince Harry's most recent squeeze
The Duke of Devonshire on rebellion, female succession and rewiring Chatsworth
A copy of "Schools Guide 2014" was thoughtfully included in the plastic sack that Tattler had come in.
The other mag that I couldn't resist was a supermarket trashbloid y-clept "That's Amazing!"
Some cover headlines:
I Raised the Wrong Baby for 18 Years!
"20 Stone Legs 'Cos (because of) a Mozzie (mosquito) Bite." Including a photo of the unfortunate woman flat on her back, shot from the feet upwards was not a good idea. Each leg weighed 125 lbs.
"I Love Rats More Than My Husband!"
"I Turned Detective to Prove Mum Murdered Dad!"
It was the glossy version of The Globe, found on checkout magazine stands everywhere. I was somewhat saddened not to find any alien stories, but the photo of the woman with anorexia who weighed 62 1/2 lb. made my day. She looked like an alien!
Tattler was founded in 1901 and is a glossy aimed at the nobility and rich people. The October issue features:
A Field Guide to Bores - How to spot and when to swerve
Invasion of the Princesses - How London became a sanctuary for stateless royals
Harry (heart shape with the word "loves" on it) Cressie - 20 Things you need to know about Cressida Bonas who is apparently Prince Harry's most recent squeeze
The Duke of Devonshire on rebellion, female succession and rewiring Chatsworth
A copy of "Schools Guide 2014" was thoughtfully included in the plastic sack that Tattler had come in.
The other mag that I couldn't resist was a supermarket trashbloid y-clept "That's Amazing!"
Some cover headlines:
I Raised the Wrong Baby for 18 Years!
"20 Stone Legs 'Cos (because of) a Mozzie (mosquito) Bite." Including a photo of the unfortunate woman flat on her back, shot from the feet upwards was not a good idea. Each leg weighed 125 lbs.
"I Love Rats More Than My Husband!"
"I Turned Detective to Prove Mum Murdered Dad!"
It was the glossy version of The Globe, found on checkout magazine stands everywhere. I was somewhat saddened not to find any alien stories, but the photo of the woman with anorexia who weighed 62 1/2 lb. made my day. She looked like an alien!
Almost Out of London
Our ride back to Heathrow arrived promptly and we left the hotel at 11 a.m.
We had plenty of time before boarding, so we went out to lunch. Carluccio's seems to be a chain, but an upscale one with a surprisingly chic menu for an airport restaurant. Richie ordered bruchetta which came spilling over with chopped tomatoes and bits of basil. Then he tucked into a bowl of pasta fazool soup. I had grilled garlic bread (more grilled than garlic-y) with melted mozzarella. I had a lemon tart for dessert, too, and it was properly "tart" with plenty of lemon flavor.
Finished, we did Bag Check, Security and finally found our gate which was located several corridors and escalators away. Richie went to the news stand and bought a paper. I got bored with my book and took off for the news stand to see what I could glean.
Having heard about "Tattler" all of my reading life, I bought one.
We had plenty of time before boarding, so we went out to lunch. Carluccio's seems to be a chain, but an upscale one with a surprisingly chic menu for an airport restaurant. Richie ordered bruchetta which came spilling over with chopped tomatoes and bits of basil. Then he tucked into a bowl of pasta fazool soup. I had grilled garlic bread (more grilled than garlic-y) with melted mozzarella. I had a lemon tart for dessert, too, and it was properly "tart" with plenty of lemon flavor.
Finished, we did Bag Check, Security and finally found our gate which was located several corridors and escalators away. Richie went to the news stand and bought a paper. I got bored with my book and took off for the news stand to see what I could glean.
Having heard about "Tattler" all of my reading life, I bought one.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Ta, London - 2
Airport hotels have been holding passengers for ransom for years. It doesn't matter why you now have to check into one, they don't care. That's because "Thar's gold in them there hicks! Let's take it!"
The Park Inn Heathrow was no exception. There were three tour buses parked out in front and the lobby was filled with people milling about as uniformed tour guides bellowed out names. Corporate types in suits (male and female) crowded the bar. Interestingly the bar top was luminous glass which cast a really unflattering view of every face above it.
We were given keys and staggered off with our luggage to said room. There were no ash trays in it. So I called the desk and was merrily told "That's because it's a no smoking room!" (as if to an idiot.) After some negotiation we were told to wait there; someone would bring us a key to an okay to smoke room.
Hoping to speed the process, we loaded up and took it all down to the elevator to wait for the person. Finally a woman arrived, handed us a key and took off.
The new room was a smoking room, but again, no ashtray. I called Housekeeping this time and was politely told that "All of our ashtrays are in use right now (HUH?) but I'll check the ballrooms." In a few moments, there was a tap at the door and an arm handed Richie an ash tray.
We went down to the bar for the necessary pint. Since lunch was only a vague memory; I think we shared a small bag of peanuts, we were well ready for dinner. There was a great long line snaking into the restaurant, so we returned to the bar and got a table, an enormous booth that would easily have seated six or eight people.
A nice-looking couple looked around at all the filled tables and approached and asked if we would mind sharing the booth? "Of course not!" we said in unison and they sat down. They were from Norfolk and he was a retired policeman. He said he never carried a gun in the entire 30 years of his career. "Only a truncheon," he said with a smile.
They were flying to Chicago the next morning to take a tour of Route 66, all the way to California where they would fly back to Heathrow.
He told us a funny story. His station got a call from a man the police all knew well. He was threatening to kill himself. When they arrived, he opened the door and stood in the doorway. In one hand, he held a bottle of pills; the other pressed the point of a butcher knife at his heart. He whined that he didn't know which to use to kill himself and this cop said, "Tell you what, mate, I''ll help you out - I'll slam this door!"
We roared. He was an excellent raconteur. Cops usually are and we were lucky to have their company.
The Park Inn Heathrow was no exception. There were three tour buses parked out in front and the lobby was filled with people milling about as uniformed tour guides bellowed out names. Corporate types in suits (male and female) crowded the bar. Interestingly the bar top was luminous glass which cast a really unflattering view of every face above it.
We were given keys and staggered off with our luggage to said room. There were no ash trays in it. So I called the desk and was merrily told "That's because it's a no smoking room!" (as if to an idiot.) After some negotiation we were told to wait there; someone would bring us a key to an okay to smoke room.
Hoping to speed the process, we loaded up and took it all down to the elevator to wait for the person. Finally a woman arrived, handed us a key and took off.
The new room was a smoking room, but again, no ashtray. I called Housekeeping this time and was politely told that "All of our ashtrays are in use right now (HUH?) but I'll check the ballrooms." In a few moments, there was a tap at the door and an arm handed Richie an ash tray.
We went down to the bar for the necessary pint. Since lunch was only a vague memory; I think we shared a small bag of peanuts, we were well ready for dinner. There was a great long line snaking into the restaurant, so we returned to the bar and got a table, an enormous booth that would easily have seated six or eight people.
A nice-looking couple looked around at all the filled tables and approached and asked if we would mind sharing the booth? "Of course not!" we said in unison and they sat down. They were from Norfolk and he was a retired policeman. He said he never carried a gun in the entire 30 years of his career. "Only a truncheon," he said with a smile.
They were flying to Chicago the next morning to take a tour of Route 66, all the way to California where they would fly back to Heathrow.
He told us a funny story. His station got a call from a man the police all knew well. He was threatening to kill himself. When they arrived, he opened the door and stood in the doorway. In one hand, he held a bottle of pills; the other pressed the point of a butcher knife at his heart. He whined that he didn't know which to use to kill himself and this cop said, "Tell you what, mate, I''ll help you out - I'll slam this door!"
We roared. He was an excellent raconteur. Cops usually are and we were lucky to have their company.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
