Homeward bound

Yet another early start , but I am finding I am adjusting to waking up at five am now. It is still a bit painful though! We left the other boys as we arrived, trying not to wake them up but failing miserably, and began our long journey back to NYC. By the time we got to customs it was glorious sunshine, typical. Yet , even the glorious sunshine could not help Luke remember where he had put the departure card. I wouldn’t mind but he had put mine with his card aswell. Resulting in an extended trip to the actual customs building where Luke miraculously remembered where they were so we were allowed to go. Even if the customs officers had asked us if we were travelling with our parents. I am beginning to get a complex about how old I look. Still, we were saved an interrogation and we entered the USA to begin our homeward-bound journey.

After escaping customs we then had a New York State Police officer to deal with because, you’ve guessed it, we were pulled off. This was completely justified as Luke had been , shamefully, speeding. We both remembered the advice to keep your hands on the dashboard/ steering wheel and not to move as we didn’t want to be shot and then Luke was very apologetic. The Policeman was lovely, even if he did give Luke a ticket , and then he let us get going on our way to the airport. It was a lovely drive and this time we got to see the Manhattan skyline in the daytime

and, possibly, drive a little bit too close to it.

However, due to the mornings incidents, we did not stop for lunch there as we didn’t want to miss our flight. Knowing our luck on this trip  this was a  fairly distinct possibility.

If only the airport staff had been as conscientious as the Policeman. The queue was huge due to computer failures and we had to wait for nearly an hour just to get our boarding pass. What was worse was that I spotted some unattended baggage. I informed the desk and they proceeded to do nothing. At one point Luke wanted to leave the queue and other people were getting concerned. They then finally looked like they might be doing something but the idiot who had left his suitcases there came back. Not impressed! To de-stress we had a lovely lunch looking over the runway, to make up for the drama and not going into Manhattan, and there wasn’t an unattended suitcase in sight. Except for the bag Luke left on the floor for an unsuspecting waiter to promptly trip over.

We also got some bits for the plane and I was looking for a bottle of water  which I thought I would need on the plane. I could not fly without one. However , it was as I was on my water bottle mission that the plane had  boarded, unbeknown to me. I arrived back with Luke rushing towards me and, apparently, they had announced my name over the speakers but I hadn’t heard this little chestnut. I bashfully boarded the plane and , mercifully, there were no delays (except for me). We arrived safely back in Indianapolis with my water bottle, which was very much still full.

 

Go! Rain! Stop! Go again!

Whilst the boys struggled to get up, due to the effects of one too many beverages, I got ready for the F1 race. I was actually very happy (excited is too strong) to be going. We filled up at Tim Hortons with coffee and a various assortment of things between ourselves that amounted to a passable breakfast. We then joined the hordes of people heading for the race track. I was a bit worried I may get separated or lost but I needn’t have worried as Alex and Richard were there to guide the way.

It was a lovely atmosphere, even if there was a bit of drizzle. The boy’s flags meant we got to have a bit of banter with fellow race-goers on the way to where we were standing.

We found a perfect spot to see the cars go zooming past.

Although I wish we had the idea to bring lifeguard chairs like another group of people! However,  it was almost necessary to put lifeguards in those chairs as the clouds burst open in spectacular fashion around the tenth lap and lots of rivets of water began to form. Brilliant, especially as we were all wearing open toe shoes, shorts and not very warm tops.I am not sure what is worse; Torrential rain at the F1 or the intense heat at the Indy 500?. Either way, after many safety cars, I found myself sheltering underneath something once more but at least it wasn’t the bleachers again.  We decided to move out of the open, finally, after being huddled around one umbrella. The race had been suspended with the drivers sat in their cars protected by umbrellas, and one even had  gazebos! The boys got some food, including a popular dish called Poutine, and we decided to try to wait it out.

I was very tempted to follow the crowds that were leaving but I am very glad I didn’t. It was announced it would be restarting so I grabbed a few more samples of Canada Dry , which would be my godmothers ideal drink, and went back to a drier version of where we were stood before. I now feel immensely sorry for all those that left as even I found I was enthralled by Jenson’s racing.We then got a lot more banter on the way back due to the boy’s flags and we were even congratulated. I am not quite sure for what but we carried on and struggled to avoid the pools that had formed during the downpour. At one point, we had to walk along a bridges railings. I was doing so well at keeping my balance until the man behind stood on my shoe, removing it. It went underneath the railings and perilously close to the edge. Even though it was ruined  from the rain I didn’t fancy walking home in one shoe! The man courageously got it back for me and apologised profusely. Oh he would have been sorry, very sorry, if it had fallen over the side. It would have meant that he would have had to go and fetch it from the mini ravine below!

The perfect day, for the boys anyway as mine would have involved being indoors when it was raining, was topped off with a lovely long meal followed by a late night Starbucks. The restaurant was a lovely place to spend our last night in and was a bit more livelier place than the french restaurant. So much so that they brewed their own beer on site, you could help yourself to a bag of monkey nuts and they cheered every time someone ordered a huge rack of beer. Commoner!

 

Steady?

After a micro sleep I woke up in the hostel room feeling very disoriented. Especially as the three boys were getting ready, in various states of undress, to go to the pre-qualifying race. However, I was off to explore Montreal but after a few more hours sleep. It was still eight am after all. Once I had managed a bit more sleep I said a quick prayer to the goddess of directions (who hasn’t listened to me yet but I’m sure she will one day) and ventured off into the unknown. I thought the directions goddess had listened to me after my initial triumph of finding the metro station. I decided it was best not to walk because it would mean the chances of being lost would be decreased. You would think. This proved false and no-one had been listening because a few minutes later I had to return to the same station. I had cheerfully got on the metro going in the wrong direction.

Never mind, I was still doing remarkably better than I thought I would. I got off near Notre Dame and went to have a look, after walking around a few additional and unplanned sights.

It is a beautiful building, almost as nice as the one in Paris. I was so taken aback by the grandeur of the building that I failed to spot the water pipe that was on a rotation system to wash the pavement. I heard a nice, clever man who could foresee what was about to happen say ‘attendez’ but, too late. So , with wet feet I squelched up the steps of the church to have a closer look. I did not go in but instead admired the architecture and then went in search of the Bonsecours Market (again, sorry Nana for choosing a market over a church!).

The market was through the streets near the old town and it was lovely to be somewhere that felt a bit less square than Indy.  Not that I don’t love Indy but the streets were actually windy and not just set out in a block. I suppose that is the french influence. As are the lovely cafes and people enjoying long lunches as I passed them on my merry way. It was as I headed to Montreal’s Museum of Archeology and History, clutching my picnic, that I heard the roars of the F1 cars reverberate around the town. It was quite exciting. As was my picnic , which I had sat in a little garden by the museum before going in.

I explained, in my version of French, that I would like a sandwich on brown with no butter, mayonnaise or dressing and instead I would like various bits of salad (I am not a fussy eater, honest!). There were a few misunderstandings but I got my sandwich, eventually, so I felt very victorious. It’s the small things.

 

The museum was fascinating. The first section was all about the history of wine. Perfect! I discovered that wine was only drunk by royalty and beer was for the commoners (so that is 1-0 to me against Luke then). It is also a gift from the god Dionysus so, in my opinion,  that is a good enough reason to drink it. I shall ignore Cicero’s comment that commoner’s intelligence is weakened by wine. I think it is a little late for me. I am also very glad that women are now allowed to drink and are no longer betrayed by a kiss! I don’t think I would pass that test with flying colours.After learning about wine, and the reasons we should drink it, I went to the cinema room to hear about Montreal’s history.

It was with trepidation that I took my seat and watched as the huge doors sealed us in. Thank goodness other people were there. Especially when it froze at the beginning and we were sat in complete darkness and silence, untill people started nervously giggling. Luckily, there was a more sensible person who went out of the fire escape and located someone to play the film. It was certainly worth the wait as Montreal’s history is fascinating. I even got to go into the vaults after and see some of the original buildings. I also got a fantastic view of the city from the outside terrace.

Feeling very cultured, I set of again amongst the very self-assured , fashionable lot of Montreal. I grabbed some birthday cupcakes for Alex and located my hostel.

First time I might add. Once safely back I got ready and headed out with the boys. We meandered through the packed streets full of F1 stalls, nicely drunk people and amazing cars. We stopped at a lovely French restaurant for a huge dinner, and wine of course. It was gorgeous food and the waitress proved amusing as she kept flipping between French and English. She had no idea she was doing it untill she saw our blank expressions. It is a great skill though.

We then ventured to a bar and met up with some of the boy’s friends (all boys! so no one to go the restrooms with. Oh the trials of being a lone female) and played pool. I sneaked a coffee in and sat people watching. Afterwards, we went to a heaving club and I am pleased to say I only had two drinks. I had learnt my lesson and I did not want to repeat what happened in the Indy 500. Although  it may have been because they had no diet coke and they kept putting ie in everything! The boys didn’t heed my warnings. This became apparent when I had to let them in as they couldn’t open the bedroom door. They blamed their key-card for this, but I’m not so sure.

 

Ready?

Once Luke got back from work we headed straight to the airport and just hoped there was no storm or delays. That, as it turned out, was far too much wishful thinking for one day. It did not start well as we both set off the alarms on the body scanner (yes , those again!but I was more prepared this time). I was asked what I had in my back pockets to which I replied nothing as I didn’t have back pockets! Maybe the wrong photo was sent to security? Yet, at least we were allowed through. The woman in front got carted off to who knows where after a friendly looking security guard informed her that some other people were coming to take her away. Sounded very ominous. As did the ridiculously sounding official announcements over the speakers informing us of the transport security administration mandates by the Federal Security Office. However, the most ominous things by far were the black clouds that had began to descend on the otherwise lovely Indianapolis airport.

This, as it happens, was not our main problem. We were very relieved to be on the plane all ready for takeoff , and happy that we were going to make our connection, as the plane began to taxi down the runway. Well, I was sitting in a fetal position with my eyes shut and Luke was laughing to himself whilst reading SkyMall. Alas, we began to see our chances of catching our next plane nosedive as Mr Pilot announced that we would be waiting, on the runway, for a minimum of one hour due to NYC’s JFK having a backlog. Ironic! One of America’s main airports was keeping Indianapolis waiting and not the other way round. If it hadn’t been for the air hostess, and for the community bonding between the passengers at the back as we could all visualise our planes leaving without us, it would have been very frustrating.

However, our air hostess did everything she could to make it more enjoyable. She went right ahead and gave us all our complimentary snacks on the runway because our journey was ‘not going to be so good’. She really was in the wrong line of work as she had the whole plane in stitches except one man who had slept through the pilots announcement. He woke up to us all having our snacks and thought we were in the air, halfway to JFK. He was just a little bit disappointed when we informed him we were still on the runway at Indianapolis. I think he wished he had stayed asleep and blissfully unaware.

Finally, after the air hostess informed us that the flight time meant the time in the air not on the ground, we took off.  The plane shot down the runway and was accompanied by the air hostess letting us know, repeatedly, that the flight time ‘Doesn’t count ,doesn’t count, doesn’t count’. Then, as we went up into the air ,’Now it counts’. The latter was greeted by tumultuous applause from all the passengers. This jovial atmosphere was diminished slightly during mid ascent. We were urged to get our seatbelts on, in a somewhat mild panicked voice, as we were heading for turbulence because ‘the weather above was not as good as the weather on the ground’. Excellent, I wish we had stayed on the ground!.

We survived the turbulence and were met at the entrance of JFK by a smiling member of staff informing us our plane had left. Why was she smiling? It had left without us on it that is not something the airline can look on as an achievement! The prospect of an overnight drive to Montreal, from JFK, was nothing to smile about. Having no other option we trudged, somewhat dejectedly, to the Avis office and asked to hire a car. Luckily, the lady took pity on us and gave us a ‘comfy’ 4×4 but it was a bit like a toy, cardboard, version of the Edge . I don’t think anything could have made that journey comfy. I nearly gave myself whiplash from the amount of times I dropped off to sleep and had my neck droop and snap back. So, after being up since  five am, we got into the car at eleven-ish and tried to make our way out of Manhattan. The highlight of this drive, and by this point it was a very slim highlight, was being able to see the Manhattan skyline as we crossed the bridge. However, a few hours into the drive and this proved to be an even poorer consolation. If only the F1 had been in Manhattan but no, we had over six hours of driving to do before we reached Montreal.

What was worse was that we were passing lots of interesting places on the drive  there such as Woodstock, Catskill , Lake Placid and Schroon. However, it was pitch black and we couldn’t see a thing. Eventually, we made it through customs and across the border into Canada. On the bright side, we did get to see the skyline of Montreal as we made it to the hostel for five am.

After a bit of a problem with the booking we got to our room and tried not to wake Alex and Richard up. We didn’t succeed in this attempt and I don’t think this was the best way for me to be introduced to Luke’s friend Richard . I was hoping they were half asleep still and I could re-introduce myself the next day. Luckily, for me, I was far too tired to notice the mess that comes with sharing an enclosed space with three boys, or the potential embarrassment, and was straight to sleep.