Day 1 (February 15, 2019): Most. Torturous. Flight. Ever.
We woke to a sunny but cold Friday in Halifax. After the bad widweek weather we'd had, it was a relief to see good flying conditions for our Nova Scotia Heritage Day getaway weekend. We both worked the morning, and then I picked up Pam at her school as soon as morning classes were done. We sped off to the airport for our 1:40pm United Airlines departure to Newark.
Upon check-in at the United counter, we realized how weak the Nova Scotia educational system is -- at least when it comes to geography. There were two mid-20s women working the desk, and the one who checked us in asked, "Your final destination today?" "San Diego," said I. "Which state is that in?" asked she. When I filled her in on the answer, her co-worker piped up, "I found out yesterday that Chicago is a city in Illinois. I thought it was a state." As we walked away from the counter, we realized that Canadians should probably not feel so smug in terms of mocking Americans for their lack of Canadian geography knowledge.
The United Airlines Embraer 145 from Halifax to Newark always reminds me of a flying cigar.
On Valentine's Day, I developed the first cold I've had in two years, and what a doozie. For the first 1.5 hours of the 7 hours were on that plane, I coughed up a lung, uncontrollably. I thought the passengers in the vicinity of row 32 were going to lynch me and/or that the United crew was going to toss me out over Missouri. For the last 2 hours of the flight, my sinus congestion almost did me in. I've done lots of 14 hours nonstop in my day, but nothing comes close to the agony of that flight from Newark to San Diego.
The only saving grace of the flight was our United Tapas Box, which we always like to nibble our way through. Everything from olives to bruchetta to sea-salt chocolates.
The weather upon arrival in San Diego was VERY CHILLY. In fact, much colder than New York's 16C. We made our way to the rental car depot and set out in pouring rain on the I-5 South to our hotel in the suburb of National City. For a day that started at 6AM, we fell into bed at 2AM.
Upon check-in at the United counter, we realized how weak the Nova Scotia educational system is -- at least when it comes to geography. There were two mid-20s women working the desk, and the one who checked us in asked, "Your final destination today?" "San Diego," said I. "Which state is that in?" asked she. When I filled her in on the answer, her co-worker piped up, "I found out yesterday that Chicago is a city in Illinois. I thought it was a state." As we walked away from the counter, we realized that Canadians should probably not feel so smug in terms of mocking Americans for their lack of Canadian geography knowledge.
The eye-popping didn't stop there, however. Next up was the U.S. Customs and Border Protection officer at the US Customs pre-clearance at Halifax Airport. The officer kept drilling us about why we were heading to San Diego. When he felt convinced we were indeed just going for the long weekend, he started on a diatribe about how California (from where he had moved) has gone to the dogs:how the economy, homelessness, illegal immigrants and corrupt politicians have ruined the state. When we asked him how he liked Halifax, his criticism of our health care system, daycare and everything else (it seemed) was scathing. We listened politely and concluded he’s just one unhappy dude all ‘round.
The good flying weather and early arrival of our inbound aircraft seemed too good to be true. Sure enough, United announced there were air traffic control backlogs over New York City and that we would be delayed. With only a 60-minute connection time in Newark and a change of terminal required, our stress went up. In the end, we took off 50 minutes late. In Newark it meant a brutal sprint from Terminal A to Terminal C. We arrived at our gate as the agent was preparing to close the door. We were the last two people on the packed Boeing 757.
One last Tim Hortons rrrrrroll-up-the-rim before heading to the US of A.
The good flying weather and early arrival of our inbound aircraft seemed too good to be true. Sure enough, United announced there were air traffic control backlogs over New York City and that we would be delayed. With only a 60-minute connection time in Newark and a change of terminal required, our stress went up. In the end, we took off 50 minutes late. In Newark it meant a brutal sprint from Terminal A to Terminal C. We arrived at our gate as the agent was preparing to close the door. We were the last two people on the packed Boeing 757.
One last Tim Hortons rrrrrroll-up-the-rim before heading to the US of A.
The United Airlines Embraer 145 from Halifax to Newark always reminds me of a flying cigar.
On Valentine's Day, I developed the first cold I've had in two years, and what a doozie. For the first 1.5 hours of the 7 hours were on that plane, I coughed up a lung, uncontrollably. I thought the passengers in the vicinity of row 32 were going to lynch me and/or that the United crew was going to toss me out over Missouri. For the last 2 hours of the flight, my sinus congestion almost did me in. I've done lots of 14 hours nonstop in my day, but nothing comes close to the agony of that flight from Newark to San Diego.
The only saving grace of the flight was our United Tapas Box, which we always like to nibble our way through. Everything from olives to bruchetta to sea-salt chocolates.
The weather upon arrival in San Diego was VERY CHILLY. In fact, much colder than New York's 16C. We made our way to the rental car depot and set out in pouring rain on the I-5 South to our hotel in the suburb of National City. For a day that started at 6AM, we fell into bed at 2AM.
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