bktheirregular

Doing another run Stateside at the end of the month, for a week. I realized I've been sort of spoiled by my frequent-flyer status on British Airways, which allowed me to choose my seat any time between booking my ticket and formal check-in ... until this year, when I didn't get enough points racked up and got punted from Silver level to Bronze. That means they now charge for choosing early seating. (Until seven days before my flight, at which point I get to choose my seat for free.)

I'm not sure but what they may be cranking up the requirements to maintain a frequent flyer level. And the practice of nickeling-and-diming passengers is getting worse as time goes on.

First world problems, I know.

I wonder what Heathrow Airport is going to be like at the end of the month, with the whole Brexit imbroglio in full swing.

...I'm flying to Baltimore in less than 48 hours.

I wonder if I'll recognize the America I was born in?

My plan for today: breakfast in Athens, lunch in London, dinner in New York.

Yeah, it's a travel day. Eight days in New York, not counting today. First leg of the journey is scheduled to take off in an hour and a quarter.

It'll get me to New York sometime around ten in the evening, but the 1:30 departure meant a full night's sleep last night, and no groggy panic getting ready for the 11:00 cab.

Signing off for now. Everyone be excellent to one another, okay?

Headed for New York for a week for Easter break. Flying via London, six-hour layover at Heathrow.

Be excellent to one another, everyone.

Flying back home to New York at 6:30. AM - very, very AM. Bright side: arriving home (weather permitting) in time for Christmas with the family.

Be excellent to one another, everyone.

"What is so unpleasant about being drunk?"

Except I wasn't drunk, just fatigued.

Er, I'm going about this all wrong.

Lessee. On Saturday, London was quite interesting, if a bit wet at the end of the day. Had a nice time exploring, seeing a city I'd never really seen before. Had a nice lunch, saw the new Star Trek movie, experienced what I assume is a typical pub, and crashed early to be up with the dawn patrol Sunday - which I could have avoided if I'd realized that setting my alarm for 5am didn't matter if I couldn't check out until 8. The "traditional English breakfast" was also at 8, but my flight was scheduled for 12:10, so I skipped that, checked out as soon as reception opened, and caught the Underground line to Heathrow, judging that three and a half hours would give me sufficient buffer time for check-in and security. With no track work, it turned out the train took an hour, and half an hour after that, I was through check-in, passport control, and security, and having a bite that I figured I'd call an early brunch.

Delays with the incoming flight pushed back departure, so we were on the ground a little late, getting me back home somewhere between 8 and 9 in the evening, with a workday staring me in the face the next morning.

And from then to now, I haven't gotten one solid night's sleep.

Even better? Friday morning (today), I had my annual thoracic MRI.

Scheduled for 06:45.

As in A.M. As in my phone alarm was set for five o'clock in the morning. And I remember waking up in the middle of the night and seeing the clock reading 1:30. And 4:00.

I distinctly remember going into a semi-dream state in the MRI imaging chamber. This wasn't one of those open-air machines; it was a closed-bore system, like being loaded into a torpedo tube ... not that I really noticed. In past years, I'd close my eyes and picture myself elsewhere; this time, my eyes wouldn't have stayed open if I'd wanted them to.

Claustrophobic? Loud? Pfft. I've slept in coach class on Tower Air going transatlantic, when they packed people into sardines for a nine-hour flight. The MRI didn't even last one hour.

After which, it was back to the apartment, then off to work. For what it's worth, because throughout the morning, I was nursing a splitting headache and dragging my feet - not metaphorically, but literally having trouble lifting my feet when walking. The last time I remember that happening, I was in the army.

Thank the FSM it's Friday, and I can spend the weekend recovering. And hopefully kicking the jet lag.

Lessee.

The wrenched ankle is better today; it was actually better yesterday, and I was ready to go back to the office, but a call from the administration strongly suggested that I work from home, as the psycho-dynamics of the office were still rather horrible.

Was pointed at one of those "Downfall" video mash-ups (for those not in the know, the movie is about the last days of Nazi Germany, and apparently there's a meme where people take one memorable scene - in which the High Command informs Hitler that their tactical and strategic situation is basically hopeless, whereupon he loses control and throws an epic tantrum - and add their own subtitles to it). At one point the scene cut to the exterior of the map room, where most of the staff are gathered after being thrown out, some trembling, a couple weeping from the strain - and suddenly the joke wasn't a joke any more.

Incandescent, incoherent rage, directed at the nearest target of opportunity, heedless of the impact it has on the surroundings. It's waved off as the normal mode of operations in this country, and if you can't handle it, get help.

Even granted that I react poorly to extended exposure to high-decibel noises (aggravated by high-emotion circumstances, but I can't even handle clubs or excessively noisy restaurants for more than half an hour or so), the fact that such behavior is considered normal seems to me indicative of a systemic problem. Of course, trying to "solve" my reaction to the problem is easier than trying to work on the problem itself; one person has much less inertia to overcome than an entire society.

But it strikes me as slightly reminiscent of rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

Anyway.

Easter week is next week; in a country dominated by a single religion, that's the major annual holiday, the fireworks occasion of the year (as Bastille Day is in France, or the Fourth of July is back home). Based on the original holiday schedules, May Day was also scheduled as a day off, but after months of dithering, the Powers that Be (at the national level) decided to move the Labor Day bank holiday to Tuesday the 7th, so as to give a chance for legitimate commemoration independent of Easter week, I suppose.

Which is sort of academic to me, because I'd bought tickets to visit home well in advance, departing on May Day and staying through the end of the following week - so when the bank holiday got switched, it just meant that I had to move one day of leave from the 7th to the 1st. Basically just a book-keeping correction.

So the plan is: depart early afternoon on the 1st, switching planes in London, arriving in New York late the same evening. Then about eight or nine days back home with family and friends and such. Then leaving late on the 10th, landing in London early on the 11th, and spending a day there to get a look at the Old City - I haven't been there since early childhood, and my memories of it have faded into the mist. Depart London around noon on the 12th, land late afternoon/early evening in Athens, then back to work on the 13th.

Then an MRI on the 15th (the annual thoracic check-up).

Nine days to get ready to travel.

Where does the time go?

So the rule is, I can't take both Christmas and New Year's off - apparently they need coverage in that week between the two holidays. Got some static about it last year.

The upshot: I'm flying back home (yes, I've been in Greece a while, but I still think of New York as "home") the Saturday after Christmas, and staying for just under two weeks. (Flight back Thursday night, landing Friday late afternoon - stopover in London; they don't do direct flights from Athens to New York and vice versa anymore, unless they've decided to restart in the summer. I don't know.)

So that's about December ... 29th? And flying back around-about the 10th.

That's ... wow. That's barely two weeks away.

Haven't posted in forever. Sorry.

As it turns out, tomorrow is a travel day for me - taking a trip back to New York for a week, to visit home while it's still there and all.

As it also turns out, it may be the last time I'll be able to fly nonstop from Athens to New York and back - the last airline to offer nonstop service, Delta, is suspending its nonstop flights beginning in October, so the only way to get between Athens and New York will be to change flights through some other city, presumably in western Europe. It's a pain in the neck, interrupts sleep (assuming one can sleep on the airplane), and there's always the risk that your luggage won't make the transfer.

But for now, eleven hours in a tin can and I'll be in New York, where hopefully I won't have to spend more than half a day passing through passport control.

Eight days this time - arrive Friday evening, leave Saturday afternoon. Full week in The City.

It'll be nice to see home again.

Just did the numbers and realized I'm headed home for the holidays in less than two weeks.

Haven't started packing. Haven't hardly planned. Still need to visit the pharmacy, get my suitcase out of the attic, and go out and get a fair-sized laptop bag (not so much for the laptop itself - it's one of those ultralights I got on the cheap - as to carry a bunch of other things in a bag that'll fall under the laptop carry-on exception).

Everyone's getting ready for Christmas; they put up a tree in the lobby of the office building, in the stand upside-down for some reason (something from the German, perhaps? I don't know). Lights are being strung up everywhere, and Christmas music is piping in through the speakers down in the metro. A bit subdued compared to a place like New York, perhaps, but Athens is in a smaller city, and in the middle of a recession besides.

Anyway, the way everything shakes out, I'll be home from Christmas Eve until January 5. Flying through London, so we'll have to see how that works out on Christmas Eve.