Drunk Darren on planes is the best Darren
Alex made me feel good with the above quote. In the same conversation I said “Might even blog!”, to which he responded “Do it!”. Obviously I was kinda intending to anyway or else why did I bring the iPad keyboard with me? And, actually, Charlotte said she misses my blog too. And I miss writing it. So, here I am, having apparently not lost the skill of the rambling introduction.
Where is “with me”? Well, as I type it’s Sunday morning in Toronto. Indulge me as I painstakingly describe how I got here.
Cats are inscrutable at the best of times and Buster especially so. On Wednesday night I was unsure whether he wanted to come with me, or stop me going away. Either way it wasn’t helpful. Anyway, I packed plenty early because my intention was to get up and go for a long run on Thursday morning before the 0827 train. Failed to get up, but did make the train. In fact the journey to Heathrow was absolutely remarkable. Train on time, and at Woking the previous coach to T5 was running a little late. When it turned up it made decent pace except for on the bit of the M25 where there’d been a hell of a crash. Thus, I got to the airport in something like 70 minutes. First class security was an absolute breeze - new scanners so you don’t need to take any liquids or electronics or anything out - and there I was, striding straight through the first class lounge and out into genpop.
I was travelling alone but, as it happens, friends Silky and Charlotte happened to be flying from T5 on the same day. They were arriving imminently, and I spotted them at security. We wandered all the way back through the terminal because for some reason I can NEVER get the hang of which end is north and which is south. Anyway, into the business class lounge, for early bubbles and breakfast buffet. Hurrah!
Very enjoyable morning chinwag was had, and once the breakfast stuff was cleared away we also availed ourselves of the delicious BA mini pies. Nom.
At 1235 it was time for them to head to their gate, pretty much the nearest one to the lounge, for their flight to Copenhagen. I, on the other hand, still wasn’t flying for another 3 hours … so, to the Concorde Room for me.
The Concorde Room is the most exclusive of all the lounges, and I had access ‘cos I was flying in that there First Class. But as I said, not for 3 hours. So! Some much more fancy and expensive champagne, please barman. Oh go on then, and a refill. And then I’ll have some more food. Yes, it’s a very gluttonous day, deliberately so. This whole holiday is a big treat to myself in the year that I turn 50. So yes I will have a burger with an appallingly low number of chips, followed by some spotted dick, and yes I will wash it down with two glasses of English sparkling wine (at the same time, because they got it wrong!)
And then I’ll have a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue because, well, I’m not too much of a whisky drinker but I’m told it’s very expensive and it would be daft not to try it when it’s free. And y’know what, it was bloody lovely. Could’ve sworn I took a pic but I can’t find it. Well, just imagine a glass of whisky. 🥃
As with most long haul flights from T5, I had to get to the satellite terminal. This gave me the opportunity for a nice walk through the deserted tunnel, which is honestly so much more pleasant than the monorail. Used to love that monorail, but I love walking more.
I did think that I might have time for like 10 minutes in the lounge at the B gates, but literally as I ascended the escalator they started boarding.
And then I had to hang around on the airbridge for ages. Oh well. At the door I showed my boarding pass and they were like “Ah, I’m sure you know where you’re going!”. Seat 1K, don’t you know, front of the bus.
Made myself comfortable, put me bag where it needed to be and the gadgets and cables and notebook and waited, all drunk and smug, for an offer of a pre-departure drink. Maybe an amenity kit, some pyjamas, or the food menu. But nope. Nothing. Nada. I heard some champagne being opened, but no-one came anywhere near me. It was something like, I dunno, 20 minutes before someone spoke to me. I know this sounds horrifically wanky and primadonna but, like, first class is meant to be (and has been in the past!) a pretty special, personalised experience. This was just a fancy seat (that didn’t even work properly)
Eventually a hot towel and champagne did arrive, with barely a smile, and I just decided to start watching a movie. EXPEND4BLES!
Nuts and champagne arrived while in the air, and one member of crew did come and have a nice chat with me. Didn’t see him again for 5 hours.
The amenity kit came, but no pyjamas. Never mind. The brilliant day was carrying on, I was in fact extremely happy to just sit watching daft action movies while in a big metal tube heading to the USA.
(Wait, didn’t I say at the top I’m in Toronto? Yeah we’ll get to that)
I pretty much finished Expend4bles before eating, because they didn’t even take the orders until 90 minutes in. I had soup to start, pasta main, a tart for dessert and then a cheese plate along with some 2007 vintage port that was bloody amazing. It was all amazing. Of course it was. Who cares that it took so long to arrive?
And then I washed it all down with a 59% whisky. Hey, look, in for a penny in for a pound. I even have a photo of this one.
Grimacing behind the whisky is Denzel, as Equalizer. Actually my third film of the flight, having watched “Adults” during most of the meal. By this time the BA-provided headphones were absolutely killing my head and I switched to my own cheap things. Wifi was available for free throughout the flight and worked well enough for me to entertain/annoy (delete as appropriate) my friends in their various chat groups. Equalizer was a bit badly paced, I thought, but how fit was I to judge it?
At some point a member of crew offered to turn my seat into a bed but I said no thanks, I was trying to power through the whole flight - but can I have some pyjamas? “Medium or Large sir?” … wow, could I actually fit into a medium these days? (We’ll never find out; I opted for large, based on how bloated I knew I’d be)
Anyway, not long after refusing the offer to turn my seat into a bed, I fell asleep. For long enough, in fact, that I completely missed the second meal service (if there was such a thing).
To be honest I didn’t really need any more food, and certainly no booze, so it’s fine.
The descent and landing was really, really quite bumpy. Destination for this flight was Chicago, the Windy City they say. Yep. I wasn’t feeling too great, but a heavily caffeinated soda would help. But first: US immigration.
The actual experience was fine, the worst thing was just how long it took. Long queue through a snake of tensa barriers, only for them to say “hey, y’all in this line need to disperse to the others, we’re closing these booths” when I got fairly near the front. Sigh.
Armed to the teeth border guy seemed bemused when I explained to him I was only here for one night before leaving the country, but hey, he let me through. My bag came out remarkably quickly, I got myself a big Dr Pepper Zero and headed to the L, Chicago’s subway.
The L was empty. Pretty much had the whole carriage to myself, all the way into central Chicago for like 17 stops or something. I remembered from last time how confusing the L map gets as you approach downtown, ‘cos most stations are named after the street they’re on and the streets go on for bloody miles. Hence, for example, there are 3 separate stations just called “Chicago”. I mean come on.
Got off at, what, Clark/Lake? State/Lake? One of the two. Walked in the wind and pissing rain towards the river and, indeed, the River Hotel. This is a confusing place, as it seems to be two hotels at once - with some floors being “Club Quarters”. And, in fact, I got handed a key for a room in the CQ set of floors. I mean I don’t know what’s going on, I just know that I had a very basic, curiously long room and, if I craned my neck around to I could actually see out of the window, I was being loomed over by TRUMP. Bleurgh.
Felt a bit too early to go to bed and by now I thought food might not be a bad idea. Fresh air definitely felt wise, even in the poor weather, so I scrawled the room number in my notebook - cognisant of the fact I might not actually be able to remember it otherwise - and headed out in the continuing wind and rain.
Chicago is actually beautiful. I’ve only been here once before, back in 2007 which might as well be a lifetime ago. I wandered along the river for a bit, then across and onto the magnificent mile. Past the Michael Jordan grill, and a pizzeria I think I went to 17 years ago. Didn’t recognise much, to be honest.
Ended up not finding anywhere I really wanted to eat but, oh, I seem to be stood outside a craft beer place called Centennial. Genuine accident, I arrived there literally the moment my friend Andrei, who lives in Seattle and knows where to get a good beer everywhere in the world, told me that Centennial would be a good place to go.
I probably didn’t need a beer, but I had one. Sat at the bar and told the barman I was on a midlife crisis drinking holiday, that I’d just landed and was leaving in the morning. Bless the man, he kept serving me little tasters of other beers in between the ones I ordered.
I mean, oh dear. After the day I’d had, what I probably should not have done is sat here and had 4 beers (tasters not included). And almost certainly shouldn’t have bombarded one of the aforementioned chat groups with so much drunken bullshit in the middle of the UK night. Mike was awake, with jet lag having just returned to Europe, and really did try and converse with me but, uh, I think I just kept babbling on without really reacting to anything he said. Sorry, Mike! Tell you what though, don’t I just look the happiest drunk with this incredibly hazy IPA.
When I settled up he handed me a receipt for only two beers, and I had to point out he’d served me four. I got praised for my honesty, yay go me etc. Almost couldn’t pay though because, oh yeah, America is rubbish and you can’t just wave your phone around. This meant actually remembering the PIN for a card, a feat I am still proud of 3 days on.
Back to the River CQ Hotel via a 7-11, for soft drinks including caffeine for the morning. Some free bottled water from the hotel. Alarm was set for 6am. I had a plane to catch, after all.