Before Commute Time Commute

1.24.2020

Have you ever tried to take off compression stockings after a ten hour flight?  They become permanent body paint.

Running shoes back on, I prepare myself for the mile hike from the United terminal to the customs area, all underground.  Above me, planes rumble past.  The Concorde is up there for viewing, no longer in service.  Last year, I stood in Custom's Disneyland lines for 2.5 hours waiting while the workers did a slowdown work strike.  Something out of Pajama Game.  This year, the U.S., Canada, and other Commonwealth countries have been added to the European Union line.  I open my passport, put it face down in the scanner, and walk on.  No humans question me, and I never miss a stride heading out to baggage claim.

I 've never checked a bag going overseas.  Would Jean's Pledge Multi-Service Cleaner plastic bottles be broken?  More importantly, would my 96 point Geodesy wine be intact, or did it break inside my boots?  Would everything be covered under a proprietary red blend?

I decide not to look until I get to Jean's flat.  I knew the drill.  Heathrow Express, Paddington Station, Tube, and a long walk from London Bridge to the Tower Bridge.  I time my commute, and I'm talking to her doorman at 3:35 p.m.  We landed at 1:37, I was off the plane at 1:50, had my bag at 2:10.  I had the option of sitting on the Piccadilly line.   How could this journey be better?  All of my pre-trip anxieties became joy when I saw the Tower Bridge in the fading light.  I will try to deserve this.