The Magic Kingdom - Mickey Mouse travel.
Well, well - at last a trip, the first one this year.
Orlando, Florida for a week. Home of Mickey Mouse and Disneyland. The Magic Kingdom.
Which means tons of expensive branded tat on every street corner, I'm sure - Donald Duck donuts, Mickey Mouse baseball caps with dumb-arsed ears on them.....you get the picture I'm sure.
I guess it's a great place to vacation with your kids - being Florida the weather is pretty much guaranteed hot and sunny - and besides Disneyland, you're within reach of other major tourist attractions like the Universal Studios fun park, Daytona Beach, the NASA launch centre at Cape Canaveral and about a million golf courses and Everglade national parks. But for business.....well, I'm not sure.
My company, true to form, chose Orlando (or at least the Lake Mary suburb - sounds lovely, doesn't it?) to site its main US Services centre. We have premises in New York and Miami too, but they're mainly sales based - the workers use Orlando. It makes travel there, inevitably, more difficult. As a major holiday destination there are plenty of flights from all over the shop - BA, Air France, Lufthansa, all the Yank carriers have direct flights - but depending on when you're travelling booking is a bit tricky, especially if you leave it late. So of course, that's what happened here. Last week we decided a meeting is necessary because of some problems from my friends in Chile and I have to go to Orlando to help resolve them. It has to be done week of 9 April, because all our team are back to Santiago the following week. Please book your flights, Bob....
Check the calender. April 9......Easter Monday. Terrific - that's cocked up my family's holiday then, because I'll have to fly on the Sunday to get there for 9 in the morning at work. Now in Europe this would be less of an issue, since pretty much everyone has a public holiday on Easter Monday. But not, it seems, our God fearing ex-Colonial Cousins across the pond, who work instead. So after apologizing profusely to my Beloved (who I must say took it very well - clearly she's sick of tripping over my feet at home; she actually cheered when I told her) I sent my flight request off to my local travel agent. It took two days to get flight proposals back - a right collection too. Of course, being the Easter period seats were at a premium and direct flights virtually non existant. A range of combinations was on offer, passing through and changing planes at destinations like Montreal, Houston, Minneapolis, Chicago, and over this side of the Atlantic Frankfurt, Paris, Munich and London. I chose a slghtly circuitous route that used my good old Star Alliance and thus meant lounge access (no Business Class this trip I'm afraid, despite the distance contravening my doctor's guidance for the hip problem) but the powers that be Over There insisted I took a combination that was slightly less circuitous, means no lounge access (because it's using Air France and I'm not in their Skyteam alliance) but, most important, is EUR140 cheaper! So to save that princely sum, I flew out from Warsaw at 7 a.m on Easter Sunday, changed planes at Paris (horrible airport, in my experience matched only by JFK in terms of surly and unpleasant staff who take the phrase "customer assistance" to be the most foul and abusive language imaginable) with a near 5 hour layover, but direct to Orlando. Going home next Saturday I have a morning flight to Minneapolis, another extensive layover, followed by a night flight to Paris, an hour's wait there before my connection home to Warsaw, by this time on Sunday morning. Deep joy.... Remind me to arrange a bloody wheelchair at Okecie for my arrival, my hips will be shot to hell by the time I get there!).
* * *
Anyway - the journey.
Well, I've had more pleasant experiences......root canal fillings spring to mind,.
The first part was ok, Warsaw to Paris, despite the breakfast comprising a choice of stale croissant or a stale chocolate muffin, with tea, coffee or water. At least the flight was on time. Then in Paris, where it was sunny but cold, things went a bit pear shaped.
I had to change terminals, from 2F to 2D. Not a big problem you would think, since the two are wings of the same building. Ah, but zis is ze belle France, where ze word "organized" does not exist, no? Once you come through the jetway, you're confronted with a big, crowded corridor (since all the gates feed into the same concourse). Now that's ok, same as Heathrow or any airport really. So you follow the sign that says "Terminal 2D" It takes you to an exit, but the exit leads to more gates, a satellite of 2F, where a very pleasant ground hostess tells you you're going the wrong way, and directs you back the way you have come. So back you go, and sure enough, just beyond the sign you foolishly followed is another that says "Terminal 2D" and points in the opposite direction.
So off you go, and walk perhaps 250m until you reach the TGV railway station, where you turn right, cross the concourse roof, then another left, 50m and up an escalator to Terminal 2D Departures. You then basically walk around a bit until you find a sign that points to the gates, follow it through a corridor between two blocks of check-in desks (of course, since you had the foresight to get a boarding pass in Warsaw you don't need to worry about them) and then join a long line (scrum more like) of several thousand people all trying to get through the same area to the gates. Helpfully, there are several groundstaff pointing you to either the Green, the Orange or the Yellow line, although what criteria they use to decide this is anyone's guess. This line takes you to passport control, because you are now leaving the Schengen area. Beyond passport control, you then join further and equally long lines for security screening - but at least the departure gates (or at least their duty free shopping area) are now in sight.
You load the trays with your stuff - as usual, one for the laptop, and another for everything else, the watch, the phones and of course the belt - and clutching your trousers so they don't fall down go through the scanner. No bells and whistles go off, and you wait patiently for the your trays to come through, which they do eventually, a couple of minutes after you. You go to pick up the one with your belongings and the security guy says: "Wait! I 'ave to check zis!" The machine is supposed to do that, surely.....but anyway - he picks up your watch and studies it for a couple of minutes, then puts it back. "Sank you, m'sieur."
Now what the hell was that all about? Maybe I was just unlucky, but it happened exactly like that. But I was there, in 2D, by the departure gates - and it only took an hour.
Which, if that is normal, is a bit of a worry, given my connection time next Sunday, going in the opposite direction, is 55 minutes.....
* * *
Time passed slowly. I wanted some breakfast, but the only place I found was a little stall selling water and soft drinks, a variety of salads and sandwiches, and slabs of average and cold quiche in various flavours, all of it at extortionate prices. I waited nearly 10 minutes for a cafe latte that came in a paper cup not much bigger than one from a vending machine. Total cost, EUR19-50, for the coffee, a bottle of water and a chicken curry roll without the curry sauce. Starbuck's would make an absolute fortune there - but of course it will never happen because the French government would never grant them the franchise.....way too protective of French jobs and culture.
I read my book (Churchill, an excellent biography by Roy Jenkins). I listened to my music. I watched the clouds roll in and the planes fly away. I watched and photographed our plane's arrival at the gate, an grizzled old 747. The crowds rolled up for boarding, and the groundstaff arrived, all eight of them. They spent half an hour adjusting the lines that were erected to filter business and economy class passengers through separately, even though they had worked perfectly for the previous flight to Chicago (I watched it board). They announced boarding would be delayed 15 minutes, but everyone lined up anyway. Then we started boarding, and the groundstaff were giving out conflicting directions so things got very fraught. I pointed out, politely, to one lady who turned me away that her colleague had told me to go through her entrance and could they please make their minds up. More passengers joined in. Voices were raised, mostly American so naturally loud anyway. She let me through. Her colleague checked my boarding pass and passport, and then pulled me our of line so the security people could search my hand baggage thoroughly - which meant taking everything out and repacking it when no firearms or narcotics were found. I love the French airport staff - they are almost as unpleasant as at JFK - arrogant shits the lot of them, and probably trained by ex-KGB staffers.
* * *
So we were an hour late taking off. My seat, chosen by myself I hasten to add, was very average, even for Economy class. It was on the top deck, and a window, so that was ok. There was a little bit of extra legroom too (essential because of my dodgy hips) and extra low level storage space that was useful. But the main luggage bin, when opened, hung so low you almost had to crawl to your seat on hands and knees, unless you had the aisle. When the entertainment started there was a good selection of films, but my headphones didn't work so no soundtrack. I couldn't be bothered to ask for a new headset, so I just set the moving map and read my book and listened to my music.
Dinner was ok - some kind of salad that was drowned in vinegar, a reasonable if small portion of chicken tikka with rice, two fresh rolls with camembert cheese (the best part of the meal actually) and a very small chocolate eclair. Plus vinegary red wine and an odd yellow brandy liquer that I took with me and drank as a night cap at the hotel. And a beer. Ho hum.
It was a long and dull 9 hour flight. Next to me was a young girl who I think suffered from mild Tourette's, she was twitching and jumping and yelping all the way, poor kid. But it made sleep impossible - I'd just be drifting off when - bang! - a sharp juvenile elbow to the ribs or something would wake me up. I didn't say anything to her - not her fault. Her dad was with her, and was holding her hand and soothing her constantly. I admired him, and was glad my little Princess doesn't have similar problems - a hell of a temper, yes, but that's all.
Orlando was hot and sunny when eventually we arrived. And I had a pleasant surprise there - I had been expecting another JFK exeperience (that is to say, unpleasant) but actually it was a breeze - perhaps 15 minutes to get through Border Control, and the officer was friendly and smiled and wished me a nice stay. Perhaps he was on drugs or something.
Once I was though with my bags (again only a short wait) there were more minor issues. The ATM didn't like my credit card and refused me cash. I found another, across the hall, same bank - and it worked perfectly. I had been told there was a free shuttle bus to my hotel, but no-one at the airport had heard of it - odd, as I'm staying at a Marriott - so I got a cab. I made the guy's night - the drive is 40 miles, the fare $90 or so......it turns out our office is not in Orlando at all, and Lake Mary isn't really a suburb of the city but a totally different township. But it was a pleasant drive in the sunshine, and as we passed downtown Orlando the guy pointed out the Magic's new basketball stadium (very nice it is too). Then at Lake Mary the bloke got lost. God know's where he went wrong, but clearly he did, because after we left the interstate we started going round in circles looking for the right road. I showed him my Google map (nothing if not prepared, me....) but he insisted he knew what he was doing - which clearly he didn't. He was constantly banging on about a "big Marriott" and insisted my little Residence was nowhere near it. In the end I told him in no uncertain terms to go the big Marriott and I'd ask for directions there.....reluctantly he did so, and lo and behold, my little Residence is right next door. Twat. But he gave me a discount on my fare.......just as well, the mood I was in by that time.
* * *
So here I am. A twenty hour journey. A decent night's sleep - that made a change - and it's Monday. Let's see what the day brings.
I still have no clue about Orlando or this area at all......so there will be further news later this week.
I bet you can hardly wait.
Orlando, Florida for a week. Home of Mickey Mouse and Disneyland. The Magic Kingdom.
Which means tons of expensive branded tat on every street corner, I'm sure - Donald Duck donuts, Mickey Mouse baseball caps with dumb-arsed ears on them.....you get the picture I'm sure.
I guess it's a great place to vacation with your kids - being Florida the weather is pretty much guaranteed hot and sunny - and besides Disneyland, you're within reach of other major tourist attractions like the Universal Studios fun park, Daytona Beach, the NASA launch centre at Cape Canaveral and about a million golf courses and Everglade national parks. But for business.....well, I'm not sure.
My company, true to form, chose Orlando (or at least the Lake Mary suburb - sounds lovely, doesn't it?) to site its main US Services centre. We have premises in New York and Miami too, but they're mainly sales based - the workers use Orlando. It makes travel there, inevitably, more difficult. As a major holiday destination there are plenty of flights from all over the shop - BA, Air France, Lufthansa, all the Yank carriers have direct flights - but depending on when you're travelling booking is a bit tricky, especially if you leave it late. So of course, that's what happened here. Last week we decided a meeting is necessary because of some problems from my friends in Chile and I have to go to Orlando to help resolve them. It has to be done week of 9 April, because all our team are back to Santiago the following week. Please book your flights, Bob....
Check the calender. April 9......Easter Monday. Terrific - that's cocked up my family's holiday then, because I'll have to fly on the Sunday to get there for 9 in the morning at work. Now in Europe this would be less of an issue, since pretty much everyone has a public holiday on Easter Monday. But not, it seems, our God fearing ex-Colonial Cousins across the pond, who work instead. So after apologizing profusely to my Beloved (who I must say took it very well - clearly she's sick of tripping over my feet at home; she actually cheered when I told her) I sent my flight request off to my local travel agent. It took two days to get flight proposals back - a right collection too. Of course, being the Easter period seats were at a premium and direct flights virtually non existant. A range of combinations was on offer, passing through and changing planes at destinations like Montreal, Houston, Minneapolis, Chicago, and over this side of the Atlantic Frankfurt, Paris, Munich and London. I chose a slghtly circuitous route that used my good old Star Alliance and thus meant lounge access (no Business Class this trip I'm afraid, despite the distance contravening my doctor's guidance for the hip problem) but the powers that be Over There insisted I took a combination that was slightly less circuitous, means no lounge access (because it's using Air France and I'm not in their Skyteam alliance) but, most important, is EUR140 cheaper! So to save that princely sum, I flew out from Warsaw at 7 a.m on Easter Sunday, changed planes at Paris (horrible airport, in my experience matched only by JFK in terms of surly and unpleasant staff who take the phrase "customer assistance" to be the most foul and abusive language imaginable) with a near 5 hour layover, but direct to Orlando. Going home next Saturday I have a morning flight to Minneapolis, another extensive layover, followed by a night flight to Paris, an hour's wait there before my connection home to Warsaw, by this time on Sunday morning. Deep joy.... Remind me to arrange a bloody wheelchair at Okecie for my arrival, my hips will be shot to hell by the time I get there!).
* * *
Anyway - the journey.
Well, I've had more pleasant experiences......root canal fillings spring to mind,.
The first part was ok, Warsaw to Paris, despite the breakfast comprising a choice of stale croissant or a stale chocolate muffin, with tea, coffee or water. At least the flight was on time. Then in Paris, where it was sunny but cold, things went a bit pear shaped.
I had to change terminals, from 2F to 2D. Not a big problem you would think, since the two are wings of the same building. Ah, but zis is ze belle France, where ze word "organized" does not exist, no? Once you come through the jetway, you're confronted with a big, crowded corridor (since all the gates feed into the same concourse). Now that's ok, same as Heathrow or any airport really. So you follow the sign that says "Terminal 2D" It takes you to an exit, but the exit leads to more gates, a satellite of 2F, where a very pleasant ground hostess tells you you're going the wrong way, and directs you back the way you have come. So back you go, and sure enough, just beyond the sign you foolishly followed is another that says "Terminal 2D" and points in the opposite direction.
So off you go, and walk perhaps 250m until you reach the TGV railway station, where you turn right, cross the concourse roof, then another left, 50m and up an escalator to Terminal 2D Departures. You then basically walk around a bit until you find a sign that points to the gates, follow it through a corridor between two blocks of check-in desks (of course, since you had the foresight to get a boarding pass in Warsaw you don't need to worry about them) and then join a long line (scrum more like) of several thousand people all trying to get through the same area to the gates. Helpfully, there are several groundstaff pointing you to either the Green, the Orange or the Yellow line, although what criteria they use to decide this is anyone's guess. This line takes you to passport control, because you are now leaving the Schengen area. Beyond passport control, you then join further and equally long lines for security screening - but at least the departure gates (or at least their duty free shopping area) are now in sight.
You load the trays with your stuff - as usual, one for the laptop, and another for everything else, the watch, the phones and of course the belt - and clutching your trousers so they don't fall down go through the scanner. No bells and whistles go off, and you wait patiently for the your trays to come through, which they do eventually, a couple of minutes after you. You go to pick up the one with your belongings and the security guy says: "Wait! I 'ave to check zis!" The machine is supposed to do that, surely.....but anyway - he picks up your watch and studies it for a couple of minutes, then puts it back. "Sank you, m'sieur."
Now what the hell was that all about? Maybe I was just unlucky, but it happened exactly like that. But I was there, in 2D, by the departure gates - and it only took an hour.
Which, if that is normal, is a bit of a worry, given my connection time next Sunday, going in the opposite direction, is 55 minutes.....
* * *
Time passed slowly. I wanted some breakfast, but the only place I found was a little stall selling water and soft drinks, a variety of salads and sandwiches, and slabs of average and cold quiche in various flavours, all of it at extortionate prices. I waited nearly 10 minutes for a cafe latte that came in a paper cup not much bigger than one from a vending machine. Total cost, EUR19-50, for the coffee, a bottle of water and a chicken curry roll without the curry sauce. Starbuck's would make an absolute fortune there - but of course it will never happen because the French government would never grant them the franchise.....way too protective of French jobs and culture.
I read my book (Churchill, an excellent biography by Roy Jenkins). I listened to my music. I watched the clouds roll in and the planes fly away. I watched and photographed our plane's arrival at the gate, an grizzled old 747. The crowds rolled up for boarding, and the groundstaff arrived, all eight of them. They spent half an hour adjusting the lines that were erected to filter business and economy class passengers through separately, even though they had worked perfectly for the previous flight to Chicago (I watched it board). They announced boarding would be delayed 15 minutes, but everyone lined up anyway. Then we started boarding, and the groundstaff were giving out conflicting directions so things got very fraught. I pointed out, politely, to one lady who turned me away that her colleague had told me to go through her entrance and could they please make their minds up. More passengers joined in. Voices were raised, mostly American so naturally loud anyway. She let me through. Her colleague checked my boarding pass and passport, and then pulled me our of line so the security people could search my hand baggage thoroughly - which meant taking everything out and repacking it when no firearms or narcotics were found. I love the French airport staff - they are almost as unpleasant as at JFK - arrogant shits the lot of them, and probably trained by ex-KGB staffers.
* * *
So we were an hour late taking off. My seat, chosen by myself I hasten to add, was very average, even for Economy class. It was on the top deck, and a window, so that was ok. There was a little bit of extra legroom too (essential because of my dodgy hips) and extra low level storage space that was useful. But the main luggage bin, when opened, hung so low you almost had to crawl to your seat on hands and knees, unless you had the aisle. When the entertainment started there was a good selection of films, but my headphones didn't work so no soundtrack. I couldn't be bothered to ask for a new headset, so I just set the moving map and read my book and listened to my music.
Dinner was ok - some kind of salad that was drowned in vinegar, a reasonable if small portion of chicken tikka with rice, two fresh rolls with camembert cheese (the best part of the meal actually) and a very small chocolate eclair. Plus vinegary red wine and an odd yellow brandy liquer that I took with me and drank as a night cap at the hotel. And a beer. Ho hum.
It was a long and dull 9 hour flight. Next to me was a young girl who I think suffered from mild Tourette's, she was twitching and jumping and yelping all the way, poor kid. But it made sleep impossible - I'd just be drifting off when - bang! - a sharp juvenile elbow to the ribs or something would wake me up. I didn't say anything to her - not her fault. Her dad was with her, and was holding her hand and soothing her constantly. I admired him, and was glad my little Princess doesn't have similar problems - a hell of a temper, yes, but that's all.
Orlando was hot and sunny when eventually we arrived. And I had a pleasant surprise there - I had been expecting another JFK exeperience (that is to say, unpleasant) but actually it was a breeze - perhaps 15 minutes to get through Border Control, and the officer was friendly and smiled and wished me a nice stay. Perhaps he was on drugs or something.
Once I was though with my bags (again only a short wait) there were more minor issues. The ATM didn't like my credit card and refused me cash. I found another, across the hall, same bank - and it worked perfectly. I had been told there was a free shuttle bus to my hotel, but no-one at the airport had heard of it - odd, as I'm staying at a Marriott - so I got a cab. I made the guy's night - the drive is 40 miles, the fare $90 or so......it turns out our office is not in Orlando at all, and Lake Mary isn't really a suburb of the city but a totally different township. But it was a pleasant drive in the sunshine, and as we passed downtown Orlando the guy pointed out the Magic's new basketball stadium (very nice it is too). Then at Lake Mary the bloke got lost. God know's where he went wrong, but clearly he did, because after we left the interstate we started going round in circles looking for the right road. I showed him my Google map (nothing if not prepared, me....) but he insisted he knew what he was doing - which clearly he didn't. He was constantly banging on about a "big Marriott" and insisted my little Residence was nowhere near it. In the end I told him in no uncertain terms to go the big Marriott and I'd ask for directions there.....reluctantly he did so, and lo and behold, my little Residence is right next door. Twat. But he gave me a discount on my fare.......just as well, the mood I was in by that time.
* * *
So here I am. A twenty hour journey. A decent night's sleep - that made a change - and it's Monday. Let's see what the day brings.
I still have no clue about Orlando or this area at all......so there will be further news later this week.
I bet you can hardly wait.
posted by Travellin' Bob @ April 10, 2012
2 Comments
2 Comments:
I laughed a lot reading this;
1 Ania cheered when you told her, oh no, no way!! ;)
2 French pronunciation - delicious!
3 friendly officer on drugs or sth, ha ha ha
Really funny :-))
But what about your hips?!
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