Fort Lauderdale is a leisurly hour drive from Miami and the airport, we checked out of the hotel at noon and loaded the car up, once you’ve checked out of the hotel and your bags are packed up that’s it - the day is wasted really, we didn't have to book the car back until 3.00pm and the flight home was not until 8.00pm so we had loads of time.
We took a slow drive south back through the Miami suburbs just to kill some time, did a right at the High Street and ended up at the airport just after 1.00pm. So what do you do - dump the car early or carry on driving around the airport perimeter road for another hour; we/she decided we’d drop off the car and check in early, get rid of the bags, have some lunch at the airport, get a paper and think of how to kill six hours until the flight.
It cost me $3 to rent a baggage trolley to load our four enormous bags onto and then found out the Virgin check in desk will not be opening until 3.30pm so we were stuck with the bags for another two hours, but we managed to find a table at Chillies where we could keep an eye on the bags and had a bit of lunch.
The check in desk opened on time and we were well early, we joined a queue of about 10 other couples, when we got to the front of the check in line we had to get Mr Jobsworth America, you know the sort 5’4”, 14 stone with piggy eyes. I asked for the seats near the emergency exits for a bit more leg room, he clicked away on his computer and said ‘Yes sir, there are still exit seats available’. Result, I thought, ‘Can we have two’. Sure you can, $75 each – plus tax, how do you want to pay’. – Pay ?? forget it I said . . . bastard.
Three suitcases were loaded and passed the weight test, one was well under weight but the last one was 8k overweight. We exchanged views on the fact that although this one was overweight, the four suitcases combined are within our weight allowance, but he insisted every individual case had to be 25k or under - and we’d need to repack them.
Now this is at the front of the queue and there are people backed up behind us in the queue and the thought of unpacking the bulging cases here was a nightmare. ’How much if we go to excess with this one bag’. I asked ‘Its $75 per bag’. – You can forget that too, I thought, Can’t you waive that charge, surely this flights not full. In his best monotone computer generated voice with a weasel like smirk, he said - I’m sorry sir, I can’t do that.
Its times like this that you realise being a member of the Virgin Atlantic Flying Club counts for bugger all, so I thought f*** you then, if you want to be pig headed about this I’m not shy, we’ll stand here at the front of the line and unpack the cases for as long as it takes - and all these other people can wait. He obviously couldn’t give a shit - so we did just that.
Having passed that we then had to hump our own bags over to the x-ray scanner and wait for them to be scanned; you can wait and watch if you want, he advised, they do it in front of you, but if you decide to go and let them get on with it and they want to open a case – they’ll bust it open - and reseal it with duct tape - if you’re lucky.
We waited and watched which was a good move as an ‘official’, who looked something like a rogue wheel clamper, decided that he wanted a closer look in one of our suitcases and we were there to give him the combination so he didn’t have to bust it open.
Now standing there and giving the Fed’s the combination number of the suitcase is not the sort of thing you would expect an Al Qaeda insurgent to be doing, but nevertheless having memorised the three digit number, he opened the case to take a look.
I’ve been around long enough to know its sensible to let them get on with it but I was interested in what he was interested in, and watched as he took out a small bottle of ‘Roses unsweetened lime juice’ (I had bought for making the Cosmopolitan Cocktails we had learned about on the ship) and he wiped it down with some explosive detecting pad which he fed into a detecting machine.
This guy had been humping and opening suitcases all day long and I dread to think of the cross contamination mess he'd be in if ever the machine found anything it didn’t like on any of his swabs from mine, or anyone elses suitcase.
The Roses unsweetened lime juice didn’t set off any alarms so I got it back, the case was not damaged and we never got banged up in Guantanamo Bay so it all turned out OK in the end but it reminded me why there is a 3 hour check in for American flights.
Small world II
We had several hours to kill at Miami Airport and having read the first Daily Mail I'd seen for six weeks cover to cover twice I was clicking my heels pondering on whether to have another pizza, when I bumped into an old mate who I was a Sergeant with at Carter Street in the early 80’s; turned out he’d just been on a cruise to the Caribbean and was going back to Heathrow on an earlier flight. Small world innit.
Welcome home
Home overnight on the redeye, arriving back at Heathrow at about 9am, Rebecca picked us up from the airport and dropped us at Victoria – where the trains were all f***ed up due to a frost the night before - welcome back to the real world . .
What now
New boiler, new bathroom bit of decorating and hopefully back to work just after Easter – can’t wait . . . .
Monday, 9 March 2009
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
The last knockings
Unfortunately Hector Gonzales never got my drinks bill from the ship and it was down to me. A quick drive to The Hilton Fort Lauderdale and surprisingly our room was ready for us – no waiting this time - and no-one had slept in it the night before . . . .
As expected (certainly for what were paying), the Hilton is a very nice hotel, right on the beach and walking distance from the bars and restaurants on the front. It’s still costing me $30 a night plus tax to park the car but I‘m getting used to being shafted every time I park that car – sometimes you’re shafted even when you’re still moving - toll roads and all that . .
Evidently they have had a bit of trouble with the fresh water supplies here the city authorities do something to it to purify it and it sends it a bit off colour; there are notices all around the hotel assuring us that the water is safe to drink, but I can’t quite bring myself to clean my teeth in water that looks like someone p***ed in it – anyway I think its all part of their master plan to flog us bottled water at extortionate hotel prices.
Great big flat screen telly, bathrobes with the Hilton logo and freebee Crabtree and Evelyn La Sourse soap, shampoo and shower gel stuff all nicely packaged in a rather pleasant shade of pastel blue; this nicely matches the wallpaper in our spare room I done up before we came away so if any of you happen to stay the night at ours in the near future, you’ll know where we bought the guest room soap !!
The room overlooks the Intercoastal waterways, a series on inlets running inland from the ocean that give this place its nickname as the Venice of America - or Florida - or something like that, there are loads of fantastic houses that back onto the Intercoastal, almost all have got a screened pool on the garden (yard) and most have an enormous boat on a private dock/mooring behind the pool.
If I ever move anywhere in America Fort Lauderdale is the place but it’s right what they say, no matter how nice it is here and how good the weather is, there’s no place like home, there ain’t no place like Asda Swanley, no Indian restaurant here can touch the Shaad in Swanley Lane, and Ocean Drive on a Saturday night is cool - but it can’t beat a rainy night in Soho.
This week has been a chill out week on the run down to coming home, this is the end of the line, back to reality and all that stuff, we fly out of Miami 8pm Wednesday evening and get home around 9.30am Thursday morning . . . Friday I start measuring up for a bathroom refit and then its back to Addison Lee by Easter.
I wonder if Neville Waterman ever made it home, I really hope he’s not booked on Virgin Flight 006 tomorrow night . . . .
God Bless America . . .
As expected (certainly for what were paying), the Hilton is a very nice hotel, right on the beach and walking distance from the bars and restaurants on the front. It’s still costing me $30 a night plus tax to park the car but I‘m getting used to being shafted every time I park that car – sometimes you’re shafted even when you’re still moving - toll roads and all that . .
Evidently they have had a bit of trouble with the fresh water supplies here the city authorities do something to it to purify it and it sends it a bit off colour; there are notices all around the hotel assuring us that the water is safe to drink, but I can’t quite bring myself to clean my teeth in water that looks like someone p***ed in it – anyway I think its all part of their master plan to flog us bottled water at extortionate hotel prices.
Great big flat screen telly, bathrobes with the Hilton logo and freebee Crabtree and Evelyn La Sourse soap, shampoo and shower gel stuff all nicely packaged in a rather pleasant shade of pastel blue; this nicely matches the wallpaper in our spare room I done up before we came away so if any of you happen to stay the night at ours in the near future, you’ll know where we bought the guest room soap !!
The room overlooks the Intercoastal waterways, a series on inlets running inland from the ocean that give this place its nickname as the Venice of America - or Florida - or something like that, there are loads of fantastic houses that back onto the Intercoastal, almost all have got a screened pool on the garden (yard) and most have an enormous boat on a private dock/mooring behind the pool.
If I ever move anywhere in America Fort Lauderdale is the place but it’s right what they say, no matter how nice it is here and how good the weather is, there’s no place like home, there ain’t no place like Asda Swanley, no Indian restaurant here can touch the Shaad in Swanley Lane, and Ocean Drive on a Saturday night is cool - but it can’t beat a rainy night in Soho.
This week has been a chill out week on the run down to coming home, this is the end of the line, back to reality and all that stuff, we fly out of Miami 8pm Wednesday evening and get home around 9.30am Thursday morning . . . Friday I start measuring up for a bathroom refit and then its back to Addison Lee by Easter.
I wonder if Neville Waterman ever made it home, I really hope he’s not booked on Virgin Flight 006 tomorrow night . . . .
God Bless America . . .
Sunday, 1 March 2009
The Cruise II
San Juan
Arrived at 5pm - on time despite re-routing via Freeport Bahamas, we’d been to San Juan before but not during the evening, which is why we booked a San Juan Night Life tour, it turned out to be a serious damp squib. It was scheduled as 2 hrs long and we were picked up at 6pm. We had a drive past a gas station where we were advised that gas was 47 cents a litre . . . and then we stopped at the new Convention Centre just up the road from the gas station. It was closed, but we learned from our specialist local guide, who doubled as the bus driver, that it was fully booked for weddings for five years – very helpful, big deal, thanks.
Then we were treated to a whiz round the town in their rush hour traffic, past the historic fort and to another stop at the Town Hall which evidently had nice ornate high ceilings - but was also closed it was past 6pm and all the civil servants had gone home nevertheless we stopped for a 15 minute photo opportunity . . . this would have been pretty crap even if they were open but closed ??? and I was struggling to get my head around where this fitted into the Night Life tour and thought we’d got on the wrong tour bus.
It was now getting dark so we must be coming up to the good bits soon and just before 7pm we arrived in the town centre, now we got on the bus just after 6pm at the port, had a 10 and a 15 minute photo stop and its now 6.50pm – we’d only been moving for a little over 20 minutes !! The driver advised us the shops were ‘up there and down here’, and told us too be sure to be back in an hour for the ride back to the ship (and so he could collect his tips as we got off). I asked him where the Night Life was and he said ‘up there and down here with the shops’. That was it.
San Juan is much like any other Caribbean Island flogging T-shirts, key rings and associated tosh to the tourists – same crap different island, and shopping was the last thing we were thinking of doing after 48 hours on the ship. Singularly unimpressed, we found a bar on our own; the Independence of the Seas was in port as well as our ship and a few of the European crewmembers were this bar so I guess we’d found the only bar in San Juan worth visiting – and we found it without the help of our specialist local guide - I’m not convinced there is any other night life in San Juan anyway.
We were back in the town square just before 8pm but the bus had gone without us, it was no big deal really, you could see the ship from the town square and we knew we could walk it easy and as the ship didn’t set sail until midnight - we went back to the bar.
I’ve already drafted my letter to Carnival . . . .
St Thomas
The next day we stopped at St Thomas, we’re not into culture and stuff and this place prides itself with selling diamonds at knock down prices – oh yeah . . . we’ve always avoided that sort of stuff and without being too unkind, as nice as it is - same tosh different island.
St Maartin
Next day at St Maartin, last time we were there we were rained off the beach just after we’d paid $10 to rent a sunbed for the day, not this time though went back to the same spot and had a very pleasant day on the beach and a pizza and beer lunch watching one of those Reggie bands.
That was that, it was back on the ship, two days at sea and back to Miami. Theresa topped up the tan and I tried to amuse myself by finding the most absurd signs on the ship that stated the obvious, I particularly smiled every time I came across the fluorescent yellow 8” x 10” sign that advised ‘CAUTION - do not to stand in way of sliding door’, I thought that was great, but then this ship is full of Americans; the instructions on how to open an individual box of Special K breakfast cereal made me smile too.
The mix of passengers on this ship was much the same as the last ship but a few more got tarted up for the formal Captains evenings. I was in the minority in my tux a few of our colonial cousins wore military dress uniform and others in a normal lounge suit and the occasional tie – the others just washed out their T shirts for the occasion.
Our dining table partners were a nice couple our age from North Carolina, they knew straight away that we were English, most Americans accuse us of being Australian, summink to do wiv the accent I fink, they only know what they see on the telly and if you don't talk like wot Prince Charles, The Queen, Helen Mirren or a BBC newsreader does, you can't possibly be English. I suspect our friends from North Carolina had seen EastEnders on a DVD so they got it right first time.
On Friday afternoon we joined 350 other passengers on a sponsored ‘Walk a mile round the decks’ event for the Susan G.Komen race for the cure charity, a US charity affiliated to the global breast cancer research movement that Carnival Cruise lines are supporting under the banner ‘On Deck for the Cure’. The ‘non competitive’ 1 mile walk tht was led by the Captain of the ship and several passengers who are survivors of this illness.
Earlier that day one of the passengers had won $500 on the onboard horseracing event and as well as doing the walk, he donated the $500 to the fund, the walkers were cheered on by a a crowd from the ships crew and a shedload of passengers who were dragged from their sunbeds to support of the walkers. It was a great event that brought a bit of lump to your throat really, it was a real good afternoon which raised over $4000 for the fund. (Www.Komen.org).
Saturday morning we disembarked (got off) the ship so efficiently it was unbelievable, we picked up the car drove north on Interstate 95 and by 10.30am we were checking into the Hilton Fort Lauderdale for our last four days of this jolly . . . . .
Arrived at 5pm - on time despite re-routing via Freeport Bahamas, we’d been to San Juan before but not during the evening, which is why we booked a San Juan Night Life tour, it turned out to be a serious damp squib. It was scheduled as 2 hrs long and we were picked up at 6pm. We had a drive past a gas station where we were advised that gas was 47 cents a litre . . . and then we stopped at the new Convention Centre just up the road from the gas station. It was closed, but we learned from our specialist local guide, who doubled as the bus driver, that it was fully booked for weddings for five years – very helpful, big deal, thanks.
Then we were treated to a whiz round the town in their rush hour traffic, past the historic fort and to another stop at the Town Hall which evidently had nice ornate high ceilings - but was also closed it was past 6pm and all the civil servants had gone home nevertheless we stopped for a 15 minute photo opportunity . . . this would have been pretty crap even if they were open but closed ??? and I was struggling to get my head around where this fitted into the Night Life tour and thought we’d got on the wrong tour bus.
It was now getting dark so we must be coming up to the good bits soon and just before 7pm we arrived in the town centre, now we got on the bus just after 6pm at the port, had a 10 and a 15 minute photo stop and its now 6.50pm – we’d only been moving for a little over 20 minutes !! The driver advised us the shops were ‘up there and down here’, and told us too be sure to be back in an hour for the ride back to the ship (and so he could collect his tips as we got off). I asked him where the Night Life was and he said ‘up there and down here with the shops’. That was it.
San Juan is much like any other Caribbean Island flogging T-shirts, key rings and associated tosh to the tourists – same crap different island, and shopping was the last thing we were thinking of doing after 48 hours on the ship. Singularly unimpressed, we found a bar on our own; the Independence of the Seas was in port as well as our ship and a few of the European crewmembers were this bar so I guess we’d found the only bar in San Juan worth visiting – and we found it without the help of our specialist local guide - I’m not convinced there is any other night life in San Juan anyway.
We were back in the town square just before 8pm but the bus had gone without us, it was no big deal really, you could see the ship from the town square and we knew we could walk it easy and as the ship didn’t set sail until midnight - we went back to the bar.
I’ve already drafted my letter to Carnival . . . .
St Thomas
The next day we stopped at St Thomas, we’re not into culture and stuff and this place prides itself with selling diamonds at knock down prices – oh yeah . . . we’ve always avoided that sort of stuff and without being too unkind, as nice as it is - same tosh different island.
St Maartin
Next day at St Maartin, last time we were there we were rained off the beach just after we’d paid $10 to rent a sunbed for the day, not this time though went back to the same spot and had a very pleasant day on the beach and a pizza and beer lunch watching one of those Reggie bands.
That was that, it was back on the ship, two days at sea and back to Miami. Theresa topped up the tan and I tried to amuse myself by finding the most absurd signs on the ship that stated the obvious, I particularly smiled every time I came across the fluorescent yellow 8” x 10” sign that advised ‘CAUTION - do not to stand in way of sliding door’, I thought that was great, but then this ship is full of Americans; the instructions on how to open an individual box of Special K breakfast cereal made me smile too.
The mix of passengers on this ship was much the same as the last ship but a few more got tarted up for the formal Captains evenings. I was in the minority in my tux a few of our colonial cousins wore military dress uniform and others in a normal lounge suit and the occasional tie – the others just washed out their T shirts for the occasion.
Our dining table partners were a nice couple our age from North Carolina, they knew straight away that we were English, most Americans accuse us of being Australian, summink to do wiv the accent I fink, they only know what they see on the telly and if you don't talk like wot Prince Charles, The Queen, Helen Mirren or a BBC newsreader does, you can't possibly be English. I suspect our friends from North Carolina had seen EastEnders on a DVD so they got it right first time.
On Friday afternoon we joined 350 other passengers on a sponsored ‘Walk a mile round the decks’ event for the Susan G.Komen race for the cure charity, a US charity affiliated to the global breast cancer research movement that Carnival Cruise lines are supporting under the banner ‘On Deck for the Cure’. The ‘non competitive’ 1 mile walk tht was led by the Captain of the ship and several passengers who are survivors of this illness.
Earlier that day one of the passengers had won $500 on the onboard horseracing event and as well as doing the walk, he donated the $500 to the fund, the walkers were cheered on by a a crowd from the ships crew and a shedload of passengers who were dragged from their sunbeds to support of the walkers. It was a great event that brought a bit of lump to your throat really, it was a real good afternoon which raised over $4000 for the fund. (Www.Komen.org).
Saturday morning we disembarked (got off) the ship so efficiently it was unbelievable, we picked up the car drove north on Interstate 95 and by 10.30am we were checking into the Hilton Fort Lauderdale for our last four days of this jolly . . . . .
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