This part probably isn't very exciting, but I want to write it all down so we never forget.
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| Our first look at Norway - thanks for the window seat, Clay! |
We left Indiana on Friday, March 3, after a 3-hour delay in the Indianapolis airport. We'd left our dog Harry at Dog World, our car in Fly and Park (Park and Fly?) and our big suitcase at the United counter. Along for the ride to Houston were some very big men who had been in Indy for the NFL scouting combine. I had no idea what they were talking about, as it was complex and footbally, but they sat behind us and talked loudly for the entire 3 hours. There was an older couple sitting across from us who were trying to get to LA; we talked Broadway shows, which was much more enjoyable (to me).
We landed in Houston after a nice flight (a little turbulence, but the aeronautical engineer I'm married to enjoys a little turbulence - I listened to Dave Grohl's autobiography, The Storyteller, and pretended I was somewhere else) and headed to the Singapore Airlines gate. Everything about this flight was lovely, even in economy. The flight attendants, dressed in colorful uniforms, were kind and attentive; we were served two meals and a snack. Clay and I watched Sam and Kate (with Dustin Hoffman and Sissy Spacek) together, then he watched Maverick and I watched Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris (sweet!) and Steel Magnolias.
We should have had plenty of time when we got to Manchester to get to our SAS flight to Oslo, but once we got through immigration, we were told we'd have to claim our luggage, re-check it and go through security again. Which wouldn't have been a problem if our luggage had made it to Manchester. According to our air tag, it was still in Houston.
It was about a mile walk from the terminal where we had landed to the terminal we were to take off from; there was no train, tram or even working people movers. I walked as fast as I could, but we knew we were running out of time; I told Clay to go ahead, hoping that he could get to the SAS counter and maybe the flight would be delayed. I could see him hustling down the hallways (hallways?) until I couldn't, but I didn't panic. Yet.
I wasn't exactly sure where to go once I reached the elevators, because the Manchester airport has shit signage. Turns out, the SAS counter is tucked in behind other airline counters (no sign); I had to ask to find it, and when I did, there was no one there -- not the SAS people, not Clay. And, in our hurry to get off of the Singapore flight, I had handed him my phone. Which he still had.
And then I panicked. And cried a little.
But a kind young woman with the airport took me downstairs to the information counter (no signage), where they paged Clay. And within 5 minutes, there he was. This would have been the perfect time for a Xanax, but instead, we sat at a coffee shop, Clay got me tomato soup and tried to figure out our next move, while I tried to stop shaking.
To make this long story shorter (and readable), know that we got a little hotel room right next to the airport, caught an early flight to Oslo Sunday morning, spoke with a kind woman about our lost bag (she gave us toiletries and t-shirts!), rode a train to the city center, found our hotel, had a nice Thai dinner, a good night's sleep, and on Monday morning, March 6 (after an incredible breakfast buffet at the hotel), we met up with Lise from Aller Travel, climbed on a tour bus and we were off!
And that's how we got to Norway.
Peace.
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