12th September
The day starts, as all good days do, with a proper breakfast with a mate...
Adrian has arrived at just after 0800, helped me load the massive cases into his car, then repaired smartly to The Romany Rye, a Wetherspoons pub in the town...
We set off for Heathrow to the sound of our arteries hardening...
We make excellent time, with traffic on the M25 (always a throw of the dice) being light and fast moving. In fact, even this...
...was making a fair crack at the (70) speed limit...
Anybody care to make a guess as to make and model?
Fair warning - it might not be as obvious as it seems...:deal
We get to Terminal Five at about 1130 and, due to what we both agreed was confusing signage, ended up in the short-term parking for tall vehicles.
Adrian's car is many things - but tall it is not. Hey-ho...
We enter the Terminal - which is just as airless and humid as I remember it from last year - a really unpleasant environment.
It is being patrolled by these autonomous robot floor cleaners - which all looked a bit creepy, TBH...
I had checked in online yesterday, but still have to go to a check in desk to drop my bag. The check in chap says, "No laptops or iPads in your checked bags?" - there are, so I have to unload them and put them in my carry on - which is now overfull. Completely different from last year
get a boarding pass which has SSSS printed on it - of which more later...
Time for security - hooray. I have been wearing a Covid mask for the whole time I have been in the Terminal, as the new variant is making its way into the UK and - by a buggeration factor that passes all understanding - I can once again get a booster shot
next week, but not this week in the UK, exactly like last year...
So, I am amongst the estimated 5% who are masked up in the sweaty mosh-pit that is the security check. Once again, the machine raises an electronic eyebrow when I'm wanded (titanium in my right leg), and I have to go into the body scan thing, which batters through my adipose tissue to discover some metalwork that used to hold my ankle together. I'm through and make straight for a loo, where I give my face, arms and hands a thorough wash, then apply sanitiser.
Next up - Duty Free - I pick up a bottle of Severn Year aged Cuban rum for Jorge - he can't get it in the USA. I carefully move things around in my carry-on to ensure its safety...
Like many others here, I'm still feeling hot and bothered. I find a seat and relax, thinking cool thoughts and trying to bring my core temperature down...
"Excuse me, may I sit here?" asks Kristy, from Denver. I say that depends - is she a nice person? She says she tries to be and sits down. She's on her way back for three weeks in the UK and Ireland and is delightful. She has a voluminous bag, apparently full of food and drink - she's clearly intent on eating and drinking her way home...
Unbidden she presses two large, ice cool bottes of water on me (I clearly look as hot as I feel) and won't let me replace them -
definitely a nice person...
We chat for ages until her gate is identified and we say our farewells and she beetles off towards Colorado. At 1415, my flight's gate is released as
B36. This will require a train ride to another part of the Terminal. No matter, I make my way to the correct area, descend at least five floors in a lift, board the train and then use the longest escalators I have ever seen, to climb five floors again in two flights. Right out of the door is B36.
I filter to the front of the queue and the SSSS mark on my boarding pass is noted and I am told I have been specially selected for additional inconvenience - please go with this man...
No problem - our aircraft is waiting at the pier. Along with half a dozen passengers I am then subjected to a more intrusive security check (hands and socks swabbed, laptop and iPad examined), before being released. Whilst this is going on, I'm slightly mystified to see the queue of passengers in the pier not moving forward - there's clearly a hold up at the aircraft door.
Nope - we're cleared and then everyone goes down three flights of stairs to the tarmac, where a bus is waiting. We drive for a full fifteen minutes, at one stage passing under a runway or taxiway. Ultimately, we arrive at our 777, and climb the stairs like Air Force One. My heart sinks as I look into the cabin -
every seat is occupied. I later find a Seattle flight cancelled yesterday, and that the passengers have transferred to this one. I make my way to my seat (40G - the aft galley is the only thing behind me), to find there's no overhead storage available. I quickly grab my noise-cancelling headphones, then put it in a bin 19 rows forward...
I jam myself into the aisle seat and negotiate with Pete - the Brit in the seat in front - asking him to let me know before he reclines his seat. I was born with Club-class leg length, but an Economy travel budget...
We get airborne about 30 minutes late, but we're destined to make up all this time en route due to favourable winds...
I chat with the cabin staff, who - as ever with BA in my experience - are great. Seeing how jammed in I am, they put me in the crew rest seats for my meal...
The food was simple, but surprisingly good - a vaguely spicy pasta meal with some ancillary bits and pieces.
I watch some films - Marlowe, with Liam Neeson and Diane Kruger. Not bad, but I think he was too old for the character. I go and chat to cabin staff in the galley in between movies...
I rewatch Living, starring Bill Nighy - just a wonderful film...
Finally, I watch Zodiac - quite a long film about the Zodiac killer - I'd watched it several years ago, but it kept my attention to top of descent into Portland.
We land on time, and there's the usual scramble to get cabin baggage. I wait until the scrum moves closer to the overhead bin containing my carry-on, then grab it and make my way to the exit. The Captain - Pete - is waiting at the door and says that my BA benefactor had emailed him a few days back asking if I could be upgraded. He apologises that this wasn't possible because of the flight being fully booked - I tell him his crew have made it a good trip anyway - and thank him for the thought...
Out to Immigration, and - as an ESTA holder - I get a much shorter queue. I'm through very quickly, pick my huge bag up from the carousel, then...
...board
another bus to take us to the arrivals lounge...
We're soon there and Jorge meets me and whisks me away to his awaiting Land Rover Discovery and we enter the traffic of Portland.
He asks what I fancy to eat. Well - it's Tuesday, right?
...so it has to be tacos...
Jorge read a review on this place the other day - so thought we'd give it a try. I have beef, a chicken and chocolate(!) sauced one and chicken prepared like a Doner kebab...
We also had these potato 'chips' (Jorge will be along soon to correct all my crimes against describing Mexican food), which came with two small pots of sauce. The red one was a bit hot. In fact, I can still taste it now - 12 hours later and having cleaned my teeth twice...
Wouldn't be a visit to a Mexican restaurant without a pic of an El Camino, would it?
After dinner we make our way back to Jorge's beautiful house and I'm attacked (in a half friendly way) by Aster, and welcomed by Carolina. We sit out on the rear deck - it's a beautiful evening - and I decompress and rehydrate, whilst catching up with Jorge and Carolina, and being studiously ignored by Aster...
Both of my hosts have early calls, so they leave me to having a (brilliant) shower, and updating my journal...
At about 2200 local (0400 body clock), I eventually weaken and drag myself to bed. I go out like a light...
and i had far less luggage than you 
