Scotland: Day(s) 0—Getting There

I wouldn't usually devote an entire entry to the whole "getting there" part of a trip, but I had a few adventures on my way to Scotland that I thought worth reporting. They began before I even left Albuquerque.

On Thursday, June 11, I went to the airport for a 9:20 a.m. flight. As I checked in at the Southwest desk, I was told that Dallas, where I had to change planes, was experiencing severe thunderstorms, and nothing was leaving or entering the airport at that time. No matter, I thought. I was in no particular hurry. As long as I got to Tulsa that night, everything would be fine. So I went to my gate and sat reading Looking for Alaska.

After a bit, there was an announcement that everything in Dallas was stopped, so although our plane was at the gate and ready to go, our flight would be delayed at least another 45 minutes. When those 45 minutes elapsed, another announcement informed us that our flight would be delayed an additional hour or so. I continued to read Looking for Alaska.

Before that next hour was quite over, though, there was another announcement. The flight would be going straight to Little Rock, the stop it was scheduled to make after Dallas. The luggage of those passengers who were not going to Little Rock was unloaded and returned to baggage claim. Passengers were advised to rebook for the next day. This was obviously out of the question for me, because I had to be in Tulsa the next day.

I went down to baggage claim and called my dad. He came and met me in the airport, and once I had my luggage, we went and stood in the Southwest ticket counter line. But as we stood in there, the line not moving at all, we realized that it was unclear that we would get a ticket at all—lots of people needed to rebook. The longer we stood there, the more daylight we wasted for the car trip that we quickly realized was probably the best alternative, given what we knew. I was willing to drive myself, but my dad worried about me making the drive alone in our new car, which hadn't been tested enough for him to feel safe about yet. So we left the airport, went home, he grabbed a couple supplies, and we set out for Tulsa around 12:30 p.m.

The drive was fairly uneventful. We made it in to Tulsa around 11:30 and headed to Denise and Elizabeth's apartment on campus. They had volunteered to let me crash there that night, and kindly allowed my dad to sleep on the floor as well. We chatted for a little while, but both of us were tired, and my dad wanted to get an early start home in the morning, so we went to bed fairly soon.

My dad left around 6:30 the next morning, but Denise, Elizabeth, and I didn't have to be at the airport until 11. I had hoped that my adventures in getting to Scotland were over, but there were still a few bumps along the way. Our flight from Tulsa to DFW was fine (the storms in Dallas were over by that point). But our flight from Dallas to London, Heathrow was delayed over an hour. The flight itself went smoothly—I had a window seat, so when I wasn't sleeping (which was fortunately most of the flight) I could look out at Ireland and England and the Atlantic Ocean.

However, because we were delayed, we missed our connection to Glasgow. After arriving around 9 a.m., London time, hurrying between terminals, and an interesting encounter with a flamboyant Frenchman named Mario who worked for British Airways, we were put on a 6:45 p.m. flight to Glasgow. That's right---we were looking forward to a full day spent in the oh-so-exciting Terminal 5 of Heathrow International Airport. Some of that time was taken up getting our tickets and passport stamps and going through security, but it still left us several hours in the airport. We were supposed to visit Linlithgow Palace that day, birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots, but that would obviously have to be skipped or postponed. A few of us were for taking a train out into London and seeing a bit of the city, but that was voted down as too risky—we didn't want to miss our next flight. So, with some food vouchers given to us by American Airlines, we waited for 6:45.

There was one remarkable point of our stay in Heathrow. I had lunch at a restaurant called Giraffe, which excited me because the giraffe is sort of a symbol of some of my friends and me. The menu had lots of really fresh, healthy, organic food. I ordered a smoothie, and it came with a little plastic, giraffe-shaped drink stirrer. Maybe this is only amusing to me, but it made me happy. And my hummus and falafel was quite yummy.

We finally boarded our plane and landed in Glasgow. After collecting our luggage, we met our bus driver, Bobby Graham, boarded the bus, and set off for Edinburgh. Throughout the drive, I was glued to the window, drinking in the gorgeous countryside. Our bus had 51 seats, and as there were only 24 of us, there was enough room for everyone to have their own set of two seats, so we all got a window.

Bobby took us for a short driving tour of Edinburgh, showing us Old Town, New Town, the Royal Mile, and pointing out various bits of trivia. It was getting fairly late—at least 9 p.m.—but because Scotland is so far north, it was still pretty light outside, and we had no trouble seeing. After this short tour, we checked into our lodgings for the next two nights at Pollack Halls on the Edinburgh Campus.

Once we were all settled in, a group of us went out walking to try to find a nearby pub called the Pear Tree. We never found it. I think some people ended up going to a different pub, but I ended up returning to my room before then. I wanted to get a good night sleep, to fight the jet lag and prepare me for our early start the next morning. But it was a very enjoyable walk. As I said, it was still fairly light outside—just after sunset now—and nice and brisk—good walking weather.

That's all for now. It was such a relief to finally be in Scotland. Next up, our tour of Edinburgh (I fell in love with this city).