We set off for Heathrow at about 0905, and make good progress until we reach the M25, which is always a crap shoot. Or a shit show. Today it was a shit shoot, and we lose about 20 minutes to congestion. Soon we’re turning off the M25 towards Terminal Five, where the British Airports Authority have found a new way to milk the poor air traveller - it now costs five pounds to drop a passenger off…
What next - bear traps inside the Terminal that cost £10 to remove?
I give my effusive thanks to Adrian and wheel my bags into the Terminal. I checked in online yesterday afternoon, so scan my boarding pass and passport, attach the label printed out by the automatic luggage eating machine, then watch it trundle off through the rubber flaps into the magic kingdom of luggage routing.
OK, that’s the easy bit done - time for the mosh-pit that is security. It is very warm and humid - and the hundreds of stressed people in interminable queues do not make for the most relaxing environment. I’m soon sweating like Prince Andrew reading news headlines and feeling very uncomfortable.
Some light relief is provided by some participants in yesterday’s Notting Hill Carnival returning to the USA…
I eventually get to the TSA (equivalent) and chat brightly with the lady who’s unhappy lot it is to check me. I ended up getting the weird tubular X-ray thing, when the titanium in my right leg made the machine raise an electronic eyebrow. I’m soon through, trying to fit the stuff that was so well packed when I left home, back into the bag.
I get the lift down to the floor below, and home like a sidewinder on the duty free shop, where I have reserved a little something for Jorge. I wait, literally dripping in sweat, as the single girl serving at the concierge counter takes a full fifteen minutes to gift wrap a box for the customer before me. Eventually I pick up my purchase, manage to jam it into my carry-on bag, and wheel and sweat my way out of the shop area and find a seat and try to think cool thoughts. My tee shirt is soaked through, as is my hair. It’s about 23°C, but there’s no ventilation and the Terminal is completely rammed.
I seek out a departure board, that tells me that the gate for my flight won’t be announced for an hour or so, about 10 minutes before boarding commences. Perfect - some of the gates are a fair hike - hope it won’t be one of them.
Eventually I manage to reach a reasonable body temperature, and open up a flight checking app, which tells me that my gate will be A10. This is a bit odd, since this gate, which has five sub-gates, is on the ground floor and passengers are bussed to aircraft and board via stairs.
Well, if it’s good enough for Air Force One, I suppose it’s good enough for me.
I make my way to the gate and spend some time sketching out the first post of my ride report on ADVrider (I’ll cross post onto UKGSer when I get to Portland).
Terminal Five is Heathrow's newest Terminal. It's architecture is modern and
massive...
In no time it seems, I’m boarding a bus for our Boeing 787, then climbing the stairs. There’s a slight delay at the top of the steps as the cabin crew help disabled passengers who have just arrived on a lift thing at the opposite door. Soon, though they are open for business, and I show my boarding pass.
The flight attendant says “Ah, Mr Oughton, we’ve had to change your seat number” and he leads me into First Class.
Awesome
My BA Pilot benefactor from UKGSer has dropped the captain of my flight a message and asked if I could be reseated at the pointy end, if there’s space. Today’s flight is only about half full, so apparently there was. I’m blown away by this - what a great way to start a holiday.
Rob, one of the flight attendants, brings me my complimentary wash kit, duvet and explains how to turn the seat into a bed. He’s also brought me a chilled glass of champagne “That’ll get you settled in”
I stretch out and luxuriate in my unexpected good fortune, as we taxi out and get airborne exactly on time. We’ll be arriving at Portland International about 15 minutes early.
I darken the windows once airborne (nothing as crude as sliding blinds on the 787) and, once the seatbelt sign has gone out, familiarise myself with the in flight entertainment system.
I watch Dog, with Channing Tatum, which was worth watching (particularly the scenes set in Portland :lol3), and Belfast, with an unrecognisable Judy Dench, which is quite possibly the best film I’ve seen in a couple of years. Written and directed by Kenneth Branagh, I can’t recommend it highly enough.
I stretch my legs for a bit and grab a bottle of water (we’ve already been served a meal. As I wasn’t on the manifest as a First Class passenger, I have the same as those in the rear of the aircraft. It was hot and very tasty).
I watch some David Attenborough (The Green Planet) and listen to a podcast history of the codebreakers at Bletchley Park, whilst drafting this part of the ride report. The in flight Wi-Fi isn’t available today, so I just plod away in Notes on my iPad for now.
Rob asks me if I’d like a meal before top of descent - clearly some First passengers don’t, so he’s able to bring me a super meal and a G&T (Tanqueray or Aviation? - oh, Aviation please
). Metal cutlery, porcelain dishes, and a crystal glass for the G&T. How the other half live.
Sorry to sound daftly impressed, but this upgrade was a very kind gesture, and I’m still really stoked about it. Rob presses another G&T on me, promising to bring me a coffee afterwards…
We start our descent into Portland...
The engines are massive - allegedly bigger than the diameter of a 737's fuselage...
Mount Hood - generally a ski resort all year round - is looking denuded of snow. It has been a hot summer in Oregon, and the air temperature at PDX is 36C (89F).
We land fifteen minutes early and I am through Homeland Security (after getting my prints taken) and, after a short wait for the baggage to spit out of the carousel, through Customs in record time. I then follow the crowd to a bus, which takes us to the main terminal and the exit - where Jorge is waiting for me.
He quickly whisks me away through Portland's traffic and we're soon at his beautiful house. I get a lot of growling and hackles from Aster, but once Jorge explains I have come bearing gifts...
...she relaxes and welcomes me in
I drag my luggage up to Jorge's spare room, then have a shower that was like a religious experience, before coming down and finishing this update to the ride report.
Good day.
