Okay, this post about my trip to England is so overdue. I was in the process of writing about my
escapades overseas when someone turned the knob on the work-ometer to “busy
like mad.” So, I have only just
gotten around to completing this post:
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I have been away in the land of fish & chips, brown ale
and tea – England. I had planned to post while I was away, but I
was either nowhere near a computer, the computer only had a dial up connection
(way too slow), or I was too drunk to care about informing the world about my
whereabouts.
Prior to my flight out of the US, I experienced the usual
security screening before boarding the plane.
One passenger with one bag seems to make even the least bit curious
airport security office want to search my belongings and person each time I
travel. Therefore, I saved them the
trouble this time by removing my belt and shoes without prompt. I explained to the security officer,
performing a body search, that my trousers/pants were making their way south,
due to the absence of said belt, but my humor apparently escaped her.
After 8 hours of sitting in flight at 35,000ft, during which
time I watched one in-flight movie, ate two meals, and partook in a nap, I
finally was standing on British soil again.
The last time was 5 years ago.
Day one – Thursday:
The clock in the airport said 9am; my body was convinced
that it was 4am. As I stood at the
baggage claim, I could not help but think that I was playing a game of roulette
with the baggage department of British Airways.
As each bag came down the chute and onto the carousel, I kept hoping for
a winner.
My father gave me a ride from the airport, and I was staying with my parents
for the week. Traveling as a passenger
in rush hour on the left side of the road took some getting used to again. I am not sure if it was the sitting in the
left seat without a steering wheel or not, but the journey from the airport
certainly made my bowels quiver.
I spent most of the day hanging out at home with my
parents. My brother Steve and his fiancé
(Catriona) came over with the kids in the afternoon, so I had fun with both my
nieces. I had met Bethany
before when she came to the US,
she is now five, Molly is about 11 months, and this was my first time to meet
her.
For those of you who do not know, the British love to
drink. In most towns, there is typically
a public house in walking distance to most residential areas, so that one can
drink lots and not have to worry about the use of a motor vehicle to get them
home later. Luton is no exception, and
after being in England
a few hours, I strolled over to the local for a few pints of the brown stuff
(beer). By about 10pm I was fighting
hard against the jet lag. I am sure that
my need to go to bed had nothing to do with the 4 -5 pints I had just consumed
– so I went to bed and crashed hard.
Day two – Friday:
I made sure that I awoke at a reasonable time, and insisted
that my folks turf me out of bed at 8am no matter how much I might have wanted
to complain about it. The last time I
went to Europe I managed to spend the entire
time on EST by going to bed late and getting up as close to lunch time as
possible. This made good for going back
to the US
after the trip but put a crimp on the trip itself. This time I decided to become acquainted with
the “British Summer Time” hours.
Steve, Dad, and I headed over to Milton
Keynes to try on the wedding suits before the big day on
Saturday. Steve and I tried on matching
shirts, trousers (pants) and tails. It
was not until I tried on my shirt that I realized that I had not brought cuff
links with me, no worries, because the nice man at the tuxedo rental loaned me
a pair. After a quick spot of lunch,
Steve had to pick up a pair of shoes to match his dress wear.
Next stop – after a quick bite to eat Steve needed to buy a
pair of shoes. Now, most men take
anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour to find a pair of shoes they like (most
women take anywhere from a day to a year and a half to find a pair of shoes
they like). Steve takes about 3.2
seconds. In the time it took me to go to
the toilet (bathroom), Steve had picked out a pair of shoes, waited in line,
and had made it to the register.
Afternoon/evening – the women disappeared to prepare for the
next day wedding, and the men gathered at Steve’s place for fish & chips,
beer and the best of British comedy.
Steve, Paul, and Mark introduced me to a TV series called “Little
Britain.” - A comedy of skits,
originated as a radio comedy, starring Matt Lucas and David Williams.
As the evening progressed the number of empty beer cans
increased, and the demeanor of all participants decreased. I finally called it a night around midnight because
of the wedding being next day. The last
thing I needed as best man was a pounding headache and an upset tummy.
Day three – Saturday,
Wedding Day:
We started an excellent day the way a day should – with a
traditional British fry up. Steve knew
of a greasy spoon that served a great plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, beans and
chips and a mug of coffee for as little as 5GBP. Of course, I had to ignore the artery
clogging cholesterol that I was ingesting, but boy it was good.
The location of the wedding was at Offley, just North of
Luton in Bedfordshire, in a picturesque country house. Steve and Catriona married in the garden
grounds. The sit down reception, evening
reception and hotel rooms were all on the grounds, so once we arrived there was
no need for traveling for the rest of the day.
I like single venue weddings (popular in the US) because, as a guest, I
can start drinking at the sit down meal and keep going until late evening –
Steve’s wedding was no exception.
As best man, I had a fair amount of responsibility on the
big day. I ushered guests around between
the ceremony and reception, assisted the groom, gave a speech, and met with all
the guests.
The speech – ah yes - the interesting part of the day. Unlike Steve, who adlibbed his best man
speech at my wedding, I was not about to stand up in front of just shy a
hundred people without something on paper I could cling too. Should I dry up I knew I could at least bury
my head in what I had wrote. Now, I had
planned all along to have a glass or two of wine before giving my speech, to
quash any nerves, and I had finished the second glass just after the main
course – perfect timing! Well not quite,
as I was downing the last mouthful of Merlot the wedding coordinator of the day
asked if I could deliver my speech after the cutting and serving of the cake –
giving me enough time to get in a couple more glasses. If my speech would have crashed and burned, I
would not have cared much. Suffice to
say, my speech carried quite well and everyone laughed in the most of the right
places.
Having completed my speech, I continued on the drinking
theme for the rest of the day, with a pause or two to chat to family and other
guests, and did not stop until the last guests were leaving at 2am the next
day.
So to summarize the day – it was a great ceremony, the bide
looked fabulous, the groom was on time, an awesome reception, cheerful
speeches, plenty of drinking and cheer, and the chance to hang out with family
and friends that I have not seen for a few years – a truly good day.
Wedding pictures can be found here.
Day four – Sunday:
Awoke to a phone call in the hotel – it was my Mum
calling at 8am to see if I was interested in breakfast. Seeing as I had only been in bed for a short
6 hours, and in that time the hearty alcohol buzz had long since disappeared,
and a hangover-like-feeling had replaced it, I decided to pass on another
greasy meal. When I did finally surface
I realized that I was still in that semi-drunk-but-now-wide-awake state, where
one is not drunk enough to be enjoying the affect but is dizzy enough to not
want to remain vertical. Not that any of
this mattered because we had to check out by 11am and my Mum was running a
get together at the house later in the day.
My semi-drunk hangover subsided about midday, just in time
for me to have gained back my appetite. Skipping
breakfast, and having not eaten much on the wedding day either meant I was
famished, so I ate finger food continuously all afternoon – stayed away from
offers of alcoholic beverages.
I was exhausted by Sunday evening, so watched some TV before
heading off to bed.
Day five – Monday:
Both parents had taken of work to spent time out with me for
the day. We decided on a trip to St.
Albans – a neighboring town to Luton.
St.
Albans is famous for its cathedral, where a priest, named Alban,
gave safe harbor to a Christian who was fleeing persecution. To assist the escape of the Christian, Alban
exchanged clothes with him. The priest
escaped and Alban was bound and taken before the judge. Outraged by the deception, the judged ordered
the beheading of Alban when he refused to sacrifice to the Roman gods. Legend tells us that on the hill-top, where
the execution took place, a spring of water miraculously appeared to give the
martyr a drink; also that moved by his witness the original executioner refused
to carry out the deed, and that after his replacement had killed Alban the
executioners' eyes dropped out.
My parents and I spent some quality time looking around the
Cathedral and surrounding grounds.
At lunchtime, we dined in the church rectory, where I
happened to meet an American woman who had left the US
to come and work in England
– the complete opposite to me. I
realized she was not British when she asked if I wanted tom-aye-toe on my salad.
I met Mark on Monday evening in town for a curry. My birth town is at least one-third Indian,
which means plenty of curry houses serving good dishes. It is common to see vindaloo and phal on the
menu, something you will rarely see in the US
unless you visit an “authentic” Indian restaurant (FYI: If an Indian restaurant
in the US
is serving burgers or fries then it is very much NOT authentic). At the restaurant, I totally over ordered,
mainly because it had been a while since I had eaten a good curry. Unfortunately, I could not box what I could
not eat, for another day – a practice in US restaurants – and I felt guilty to
leave good food, so I ate as much as I could without going pop.
Mark and I followed the curry with beers, but had to quit
after three pints because the curry was weighing too heavy, so we went back to
Mark’s place to watch late night movies before crashing.
Day six – Tuesday:
I awoke at a reasonable time of the morning and headed over
the pub with Mark. (Are you catching the
British pub theme all the way through this post?) Mark’s local does an excellent fry-up
breakfast, but today they were only serving from noon – bummer. We entertained ourselves playing pool and
drinking coffee for a couple of hours whilst we waited. I did consider ordering a pint of bitter, but
decided I had better not drink before noon otherwise; I would have to grow a
long beard, not wash for a month, and urinate over myself to fit the image
matching the label that people would give me for drinking so early in the
day. Finally, breakfast arrived, well
technically lunch at that time, and I waffled down a huge pie and chips.
I relaxed at my parents for the remainder of the afternoon,
took a shower, and packed my suitcases, since I was flying back to the US the next
morning. We had planned to visit Steve
and Catriona at their house in the evening but the invite changed to a BBQ at
Angela and Graham’s house – Catriona’s parents.
The BBQ was a lot of fun.
I was not running a grill, for a change, and got to chitchat with Angela
and Graham, and the bridesmaids from the wedding – Sarah and Fiona were there
as well. The kids were having a ball on Bethany’s rocking horse,
so I snapped some more pictures between conversation and mouthfuls of
burger. This was the last evening that I
would be spending with my brother and sister-in-law, so I made the best of the
time hanging out with them and playing along with Bethany and Molly.
Day seven – Wednesday:
My flight to the US was at 1pm, so I had to be at
the airport for 10am, which meant leaving the house at 9am. One suitcase on the way over had double to
two because I had a ton of gifts for Lisa, Isabella, and Simon to bring
back. I said good-bye to my Mum at
the house and Dad and I headed off to the airport. As we approached terminal 4 at London’s Heathrow airport
my mood was a mixture of somber and excitement.
On one hand I was eager to get back to see Lisa, Simon and Isabella, but
sad that I was saying goodbye to my parents once again. I could tell that Dad was choking back some
tears as I left him at the car and headed into the terminal, and I did my best
not to shed tears myself. It reminded me
of day that I left England to
go live in the US,
almost 6 years ago, and had to say goodbye, not knowing when I would be back.
The flight back to the US
was as painless as the flight over to England.
I think I have plane travel down pat now – eat a little, watch one movie
and then sleep all the way home. I did
not sleep as long as I did on the way over, but did get some naptime in the
final hours of the flight.
As I left the plane at BWI, I ran into the woman that I had
sat next to me on the flight over to England.
We shared stories of our trip as we passed through immigration, customs,
and baggage claim. Like me, she was a
Brit who now lived in the US
and was visiting for a wedding.
I called Lisa to let her know that I was at BWI, and she was
on her way to collect me from the airport.
As I waited, I got the chance to look around at other passengers,
airport staff, and people dropping off their loved ones and friends. As I sat
there, I realized that I had actually missed the US – this was now home. I had a great deal of fun in England, and
was overjoyed to see my parents, but it was so good to be back in the Sates
again.
Pictures of the trip can be found here.