18 Oct 2003
The Hattaways carried us to IAH, which was a great treat. We stopped at Carl's office and he showed me around the data center...very impressive. The traffic area in front of the British Airways terminal at IAH is under construction, so it was pretty crazy until we got inside. It took just over an hour to get checked in and through security. I didn't have to remove my shoes, which was a pleasant surprise. Actually, it just made the whole process a bit less annoying. Gotta love the patronizing announcements: "Please do not accept luggage from strangers." Give me a break. I miss the days when your friends and family could see you off at the gate.
Of course, I took great pains beforehand to remove from my carry-on luggage, and from my person, terrorist weapons like tweezers, penknives and screwdrivers. Having thus voluntarily stripped myself of dangerous weaponry, I didn't really anticipate any trouble with security. Unless, of course, there's actually a terrorist on the aircraft, in which case we're all in trouble because nobody's armed, thanks to the good folks in Washington who claim to understand security. I wonder why they all fly private charter? Grr. All issues of personal comfort aside, the thing that bothers me the most is the fact that people are putting up with the nonsense. Since we're acting like mindless sheep, I suppose we should expect to be treated as such. The flight was good, food was OK, seat was reasonably comfortable, and they were able to accommodate my instrument case onboard, which was a big plus.
19 Oct 2003
Note to self: Never, ever, pack more than you can comfortably carry for at least a quarter of a mile. I lost years from my life carrying 100+ lbs. of baggage across London. British Airways changed my flight at the last minute, and I had to switch airports in London, so I couldn't simply store my bags in the airport...and I had packed with that notion in mind. Bad idea. Pain is such a rush, right?
I met a nice young couple on the train from Gatwick to Victoria Station...he's from Portsmouth, builds display cases for a department store, and makes furniture on the side. She's studying to be a nurse, and wants to specialize in midwifery. I never got their names. She was concerned for my well-being, dragging all that luggage, but I assured her that I'd survive; I figured my insanity wasn't fatal. Sure enough, I made it to the hotel: the Cranleigh Hotel, a small family-run place at Ealing Common on the west side of London. Small, comfortable room, nice shower, nice staff. Their credit card machine was on the fritz, so I paid cash (chances are they're just ducking taxes, more power to 'em). There will be a cab coming for me in the morning, because there's no way I'm dragging that luggage back through the Underground, across town to Heathrow. There's a neat shopping area about a ten-minute walk from here. The weather is fairly cool--30s at night, maybe 50 for a high--so I had a nice walk. Her majesty was able to keep up with me on my walk, too, since there are closed-circuit TV cameras mounted all over the place, indoors and out. It's sad to see such tangible proof that Brits are subjects, not citizens. May it never happen in America (but I'm not comfortable with the odds).
Spent the evening with BJ and Karen. They have three kids, Christy, 16, who's away at a private boarding school in the Black Forest, Ben, 15, and Tony, 10. Tony has a British accent (or, I should say, he's the only one in his family without an American accent). BJ gave me a lot of good practical information and advice on dealing with arabs on a day-to-day basis. Apparently the men often refer to each other as "father of (insert eldest son's name here)," and BJ said my son's name *might* give them trouble...so he tried to come up with an Arabic "nickname" that would be easier for them to pronouce. The best one was "Laith," which means "lion." I'll have to see how my boy feels about that.
The hotel, like many homes, uses hot-water radiators for heat...they didn't turn on the hot water until it got pretty nippy this evening. I left the radiator on high when I left for BJ's, and the room was toasty when I returned. I started to sleep with the window open a crack, but after feeling a few drafts thought better of it. It's cold in this place!
20 Oct 2003
Had a good night's sleep. No alarm clock (no clocks anywhere, in fact...does anybody really know what time it is?), so I set the computer to wake me up with random praise music. It started off with "Good To Me" which reminded me of Kelly and Cindy, and then "Breathe" which reminded me of Jamie and Chris. Breakfast was great...fried egg over-easy, bacon (thin-sliced ham, really; our bacon is called "strip bacon" or something like that), beans (pork-and-beans style--apparently the latest breakfast craze), toast and jam. My cab driver was a sikh from India who's been in London for 40 years and is about to retire, build a house in India, and spend just enough time in London each year to collect his pension. He's looking forward to getting his turban. He recently visited a friend of his--an old schoolmate--in India who owns a trucking company and is apparently quite wealthy. The friend owns cars in every color, and his driver's job is to keep the cars clean and in good working order, and--most important--to choose a car for any given journey based on the color of the boss' turban. So, when the guy walks out his front door, the driver has to check the turban color, and then run to the correct auto.
Check-in and security were much faster at Heathrow than in Houston, and I had a lot of time to continue reading the biography of John Adams. One consistent characteristic of Adams was his diffidence in himself whenever he was presented with a new opportunity or responsibility...he had an uncanny ability to fully understand both the scope of the situation and his own inadequacies. It is heartening to me, especially in light of current events in my life, to know that I share a least a few thoughts and feelings with such a great man of history.
London police in the terminal areas wear kevlar body armor and carry 9mm full-auto rifles with lights and laser sights. In their hands, at the ready. Martial law, anyone? Though for the most part they're friendly chaps, still it's a bit disconcerting to know that the Queen trusts these guys with those guns, but doesn't trust me with tweezers. Air travel now makes everyone a subject, I suppose--not to mention a suspect (ever notice how they all look at you sideways?). And, as always, the thing that disturbs me the most is the fact that nobody seems to understand or care about the insanity of the whole setup. Reading about Adams and the early days of the U.S. government in this setting has underscored for me the difference between the Liberty for which our forefathers fought and died, and the Apathy in which most of us live today, in our government-managed comfort.
I finally made it...Tim met me at the airport, and I paid a guy 30 QR to drag my cargo out to Tim's car (about eight bucks). Customary charge is something like 10 QR, so he got a pretty good tip, but I was in no mood to quibble. So, here I am, back in Doha! After a hot shower, it's off to bed, and I'll be at work early in the morning. Cheerio!
Click here to see the pictures.
Posted by jon at October 20, 2003 02:07 PM