Chicago Chronicles: Day One – Surviving the Chaos with My “Expert” Travel Companion!
The 3:15 AM Wake-Up Call and Other Misadventures
Ah, the sweet symphony of the alarm clock disrupting the blissful dreams at 3:15 in the morning. Now, before you get too impressed with our early riser status, let me clarify – we had barely hit the hay by 11:00 PM the night before. So, here we are, dragging ourselves out of bed, attempting to shower away the remnants of sanity, and sipping what we fervently hope will be the last decent cup of tea for the next eight days. Why, you ask? Because my dear wife has concocted a grand plan – a trip to Chicago to visit Cousin Julie.
Terminal Tango: A Comedy of Errors
So, the adventure begins at an ungodly hour of 4:05 AM. We bid adieu to our snoozing offspring, entrust our vehicle to the capable hands of our daughter Sam, who graciously volunteered for airport duty. A déjà vu of two years ago when Drew, my eldest son, did the same.
Now, fast forward to the airport. The plot thickens as we inquire about our departure terminal. “Terminal Two,” says Michele confidently. But wait, plot twist – inside Terminal Two, there’s no sign of the Aer Lingus desks. Panic? Nah, we’re cool. A brisk 15-minute trek on the Gladiator-style travelators awaits us. Easy peasy, right?
Oh, how wrong we were. Online check-in done, boarding passes MIA. No worries, the automatic ‘check-in’ hubs will sort us out. Or not. A solitary Aer Lingus desk greets us, but hey, we’re just second in line – crisis averted.
Security Shenanigans: When Chaos Goes International
Security – my new best friend. Well, at least I made it through. Where’s Michele, you ask? Wrestling with a gate that refuses to cooperate. A helpful man intervenes, crisis semi-averted. But, lo and behold, Aer Lingus decides to play a prank on us – swapping our boarding cards and passports. My bad, probably.
Finally free from security’s clutches, Michele embarks on a duty-free shopping spree. £110 lighter and 35 minutes invested in selecting the perfect fragrance – a tradition, mind you.
A Culinary Misadventure and Transatlantic Antics
Post-duty-free saga, Michele vanishes near Radley handbags, only to abandon ship and explore Macy’s. Shocking, indeed. Time for breakfast – 2 bacon butties and two coffees for the grand total of £16.60. Note to self: eat before setting foot in the airport.
Off we go from Manchester, 10 minutes ahead of schedule, with warm and dry weather. Dublin, however, welcomes us 35 minutes later with its signature wet and damp embrace. No worries – we’re stuck in the terminal for the next hour.
Irish customs give Michele’s handbag a sniff test. Perhaps the Radley one would’ve been a safer bet. All clear, onwards to US customs. Passports and ESTA ready – or so we thought. Cue the frantic search for misplaced documents, a nice Irish lady’s intervention, and a slight detour for yours truly in the name of extra fingerprints and a spontaneous photo shoot.
The A330 Adventure: Guinness Guilt and Customs Conundrums
Same gate, different day. Time for a Guinness or two before boarding. Michele opts for a Baileys with ice, my Guinness choice becomes a crucial error, as I find myself taxiing at 7mph bursting for a wee. Karma, perhaps, for mocking the female flight captain about plane-reversing skills.
Finally seated on the Airbus 330, row nine, seats A and B, we bask in the Chicago-bound sunshine. The flight over the Atlantic is pleasant, and we land on time. A brief wait for our bags, a dash to Budget to pick up our chariot, and a 30-minute drive to Lisle later, we reach the Hilton, where the day’s chaos culminates in a much-needed unpacking session.
Family Reunion and the Art of Dropping Like a Fly
Now, after being awake for a staggering 25 hours, it’s time for me to bid adieu to consciousness. Off to bed I go – utterly, unequivocally knackered.
