runlindsayrun

Day Fourteen

Okay, I'm creating this post, but seriously - nothing happened today. We woke up, packed, and went to the airport. We checked in and had lunch, and then got on the plane.

In between, we did have a minor adventure. I left my passport and boarding card at the restaurant in the airport, which I realized about 30 seconds later. We went back to get it, and they had already found it and taken it to security. It ended up being a huge runaround, because they didn't take it to security (like they said) - they had taken it to the Air Canada counter. Which was in a totally different part of the terminal. And our plane was boarding in 10 minutes. Argh. In any case, it all got sorted out - easily, and with time to spare. But not really something I'd consider to be fun.

The flight from London to Montreal was good. Very empty, so we got great service. Watched Evan Almighty, which is probably the worst movie ever made. Then we arrived in Montreal, where we hurried up and waited. And waited. And waited. Our first flight was early, which gave us almost four hours in Montreal - which sucks when customs was quick and painless, dinner was speedy, and Geoff and Lindsay were simply tired and wanting to get home. It probably didn't help that our internal clocks were so screwed up, or that we were (are) both sick.

It *pained* me to be in Montreal (one of my favourite cities in the world so far), and unable to leave the stupid airport. The upside is that I got to finish the book I started on our first flight two weeks ago (The Shock Doctrine), and it was SO good.

The Montreal to Winnipeg flight was tiny - one of those stupid planes that you have to walk outside to board. Icky. I get really claustrophobic on those planes, and it didn't help that we ended up right near the back, so I was constantly closed in on the aisle side with people waiting to use the washroom and bumping into my shoulder when two people needed to pass.

And then we were home. Aaron graciously offered to pick us up (actually, I think he was volunteered, but whatever), and my grandparents actually showed up to welcome us home. We got our bags in the door and CRASHED. I'm semi-awake now, but I can hear Geoff coughing and blowing his nose upstairs - so I guess neither of us made a miraculous overnight recovery.

Which is too bad, because it's his 33rd birthday today. Oh well. I think we're both beyond the delusion that birthdays are magical :)

Labels: London, My Life, The Boy, Travel

posted by Lindsay @ 9:44 AM