Welcome to Heathrow

THere we were at Heathrow, what must be the largest English first language airport on the orb. Our flight from Dulles was the type one wants, one with an landing from which you can walk away, and use the plane again. It was truly uneventful, although the US All American Cheerleading Squad that is performing in the London New Year’s Day Parade. They were dressed in matching red gore-tex jackets, seemed like a very nice group of kids, and were lectured more than once that roll call would be a frequent and regular part of their lives for the next week.

After having invested time and some money in securing a sort of pre-screened good citizen cards that allow us quick return to the States and theoretical quick passage through security, we were a bit sad to learn British Airways was not yet playing the game in the US. We we’re assured they would be, as we trudged along with the littles, but all went quickly, my tube of toothpaste and cortisone made it through the magic detectors, EVEN THOUGH I did not remove them from my suitcase and have them in a separate clear plastic bag. That’s just the kind of criminal I am.

The duty-free acreage in our little terminal is a wonder. If it’s liquor, they sell it. If it’s something to keep you from smelling like you were on an eight-hour flight with 400 of your closest friends – they sell it; if it’s chocolate, they sell it, if it’s jewelry that you need to buy to apologize for again not being there – well, you get the picture. All duty free, and the tag line to the entrance is “More than you imagined …” I assume they meant the options, but I think it also refers to the costs.

There are near movie house sized screens running that Dior ad of Charlieze Theron on a loop. Over and over, 12 feet tall, absurdly perfect; distracting.

We thought about catching an earlier flight to Berlin, as we have several hours of layover to enjoy, but that privilege would have cost us n additional £300 – each, which is considerably more than our tickets cost. So we will enjoy the scenery. After all, Charlieze is not unattractive.

Author: markfrombethesda

A recovering quantitative political scientist, after having grown up and being educated in Texas I have recently retired from the exciting world of government consulting and research in Washington, DC. I have a lovely wife, lovely adult daughter, and lovely home in a lovely suburb of a largely lovely city.

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