high flier

first of all ... allow me to apologize for any and all errant capitilization of this blog. i am using the computer of my beloved, a computer which ... i may add, has the infernal cheek to insert capitals and attempt to correct my grammar ...


All in all … not a bad trip.

Glasgow airport has a new security system, much more efficient. I managed to find my way through without having to remove either my shoes or my belt. Of course I also missed out on being body searched by the attractive security guard. But hey … we don’t always get everything we want in life…

First time coming in through Newark … yep … much faster than jfk, quite a pleasant experience actually. My flight arrived an hour early as well!
None of the above meant much as I managed to wait in the wrong place for herself.

In the freezing cold …

hah, Scotland is a warm and hospitable country in comparison to Newark airport.
So … I waited where I was, she waited where she was and eventually I thought … “best I phone the woman, as she is obviously lost somewhere between where she was coming from and where she is going to.”

Unfortunately, my mobile phone does not have international roaming. I cast my eyes around for folks with working type mobiles in their hands. I sashay over to the nearest mark, trying to look as harmless as I actually am.

“er… excuse me … are you local? Any chance you would be so kind as to make a call for me, my lift seems to have forgotten me.”

Pregnant pause …

I flash my best ‘I’m an alien and helpless in your big sophisticated country ‘smile. I fumble for my wallet … “perhaps I could reimburse you?”

Damn! I love Americans!
Back home in the good old republic I would probably have been maced. Over here, people love to help!
I gave herself’s number to my saviour, which she very kindly dialed for me and then handed over the phone.
I get the answer message … aarrgghh!
I leave a polite message, trying really hard not to sound too whiney, forgotten or neglected.

“I’m here, waiting outside international arrivals at passenger pick up number three …”

My phone lady and I continue to wait, her taxi arrives and she departs.

I begin to worry. Perhaps herself is not lost, perhaps she has been involved in an accident. I look around for a new mobile phone owner. I find a woman walking a cute little dog … she has no mobile phone! she expects me to believe that … Hah!

I scan the rapidly thinning crowd for potential call donators.

There she is … flouncing towards me … doing her new York eye roll! Shaking her head and waving her arms, intimating …

What?

It would appear that when I called, I neglected to call her mobile. I phoned the home phone.
Fortunately being a woman of innate intelligence and with an almost psychic understanding of my modus operandi …

… herself deduced that I might well have called the home phone. A simple call to check her messages and she came to understand that I had not been arrested by immigration officials and that I was indeed waiting just outside the building …

Instead of just inside …

Where she, herself, was eagerly awaiting my arrival.