My day started at 6:00, this was expected, after the normal morning ablutions and waking up Wissy at 6:30 everything was going to plan, we set off, a short walk to the airport, yes, a short walk, also following the short walk we experienced the shortest regularly scheduled ferry ride in the world, 20 metres.
At the front of the queue we realised we hadn't applied for our ESTAs, a requirement of the security theatre. In Heathrow we would have been banished to work it out ourselves, but Porter let me behind the desk to use their 24 inch iMac where I applied for the requisite documentation online, mine sailed through, but Wissy's application apparently required 72 hours, my heart dropped through the floor, luckily the nice Porter girl fixed it all and the sweating stopped.
Off to the free lounge to eat free snacks and drink free soda, unfortunately the realisation that the fog we had walked through may have a material affect on our ability to fly, the 6:45 flight was just taking off at 8:30, the flight after ours had been cancelled and yet again we doubted our ability to get to america.
The next announcement was all about us, unfortunately our plane had landed at the wrong airport, a 40 minute coach ride away, while sitting and waiting the coach arrived, ready for the third mode of transport a cheer inspiring message over the tannoy, our plane had made it all the way home and would be ready for us at the right airport.
Forty minutes later we were on the plane, joy oh joy, with full skies we couldn't take off for another half an hour, luckily iPad scrabble saved the day, no boredom... Up up and away and above the fog the skies were beautiful, barely a free and a salty snack later and we were landing in Newark (1 hr 15 min later - this will be important)
Off the plane and into the stygian hell that is American immigration, queue, queue, queue, bored bureaucrat queue, I have never felt such internal rage at a badly organised processes I did in Newark, Wissy put it best, having lived through a bird strike and a pilot dying and this was still worse...
After finally making it through the kafka-esque limbo we had to collect our luggage, made infinitely more difficult by it not actually being on the carousel as we had spent 1:30 minutes getting through the airport. Yes 15 minutes longer than it took to get to the US... Happy happy joy joy. The lack of luggage led to difficult questions about our travel insurance, luckily we were yet again rescued by a member of the Porter staff who tracked our luggage down in the oversize section...
Finally we were the right side of the airport in a cab, we thought we were going to get public transport to the hotel but after the day we had a cab was well deserved...
The hotel in Brooklyn is great and we are one street over from the New York equivalent of Hoxton, 5th Avenue, where we managed to get proper beer, a margarita properly made and some cheap Thai food, the holiday has truly started and I am finally forgetting the queue from hell...
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Location:4th Ave,,United States
Sorry to hear you had such a crappy trip - but the Porter experience sounds good. I am tempted to do a weekend trip to somewhere American, if only for the shopping!
ReplyDeleteThe trick is to turn off your brain and act like the cattle American immigration wants you to be...
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