Bright days in Brighton
I had planned to go to Brighton to stay with some friends there a couple of days, and just relax before heading to Orlando. Ashley was busy, so I spent the Saturday down by the beach. Enjoying the sun and the relative warm temperature. When I say warm, I of course mean : Northern Europe kind of warm. Anything above 20 is HOT. And everybody is out in their bikinis. Well, girls anyway. I quite enjoyed it. Walking along the beach. Looking at the carousels, the live performances of artists and whatnot. And after a long and soothing day, I was standing in a public toilet of all places, when it suddenly hit me : Driving license!
When I sat at home on Friday, deciding which cards I needed to go into my wallet, I took out my driving license and thought : "I don't need that, I've got my passport. No need for extra ID"... Even though I had talked about the cool rental car I had booked, I completely forgot about it when I packed my wallet. I was close to screaming in anger and frustration. I walked back to Ashley's house. Needed to walk off some anger. I thought of canceling the car. Going back to Norway. Which card I could "fake" as the driving license (since the people at Avis in Orlando probably don't know what a Norwegian looks like). I got back to the house, and got on the internet to check the prices of a flight back to Norway. It would be almost the price of the rental car. I sat there for a long time. Just trying to figure out what to do. Ashley suggested I grow a beard and use his license. A brilliant idea, with only three minor flaws. 1) I wore glasses. 2) His license was English, my passport Norwegian. 3) The name on his license did not match mine in the passport. He was kidding of course.
After some discussion, I decided to go back to Norway. It was a detour I did not want. And it meant that instead of me getting up at a lazy hour, and getting on a late morning train to Gatwick, I had to get up at 3 in the morning in Oslo, get on the bus to Oslo Airport, take a plane back to Gatwick, wait for several hours on the flight, and then fly to Orlando. A typical, stressful and sleepy journey I had hoped to avoid. But there was no other option. No-one had access to my apartment, so I couldn't have them express me the license either.
I have to admit, when I walked through the streets of Oslo on Monday, it felt wrong. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to have a lazy day in Brighton. Instead I was forced to sit and wait for a flight to Norway. A flight that ended up being two hours late. So when I finally got home, it was time to get to bed.
To save some back-pain, I opted for storing my backpack on Gatwick airport. This almost ended in tears too. When I got back to my apartment, I thought I'd get rid of the things I no longer needed, like dirty clothes and receipts. After I had gotten to bed, the thought struck me. "RECEIPT!!!". I got out of bed, and found the receipt for my backpack at Gatwick. Put it safely in my wallet. Would have been typical that I went through all this trouble to get my license, and then forget the receipt for my backpack, and thus all the gear I was going to use for the Space Shuttle launch. I am getting old. And senile. No question.
Some images from my day. Before I realized my mistake.
From the aquarium :
Flight across the pond
Virgin Atlantic had the cheapest flight across the pond this time. They were on time. Well on time. And I got a seat just behind the wing. Row 52. Window seat. As they called out the rows for boarding, I was amazed to see how few people showed up. And when they closed the doors of the plane, there were hardly enough people on board to put one in each seating group. So I got three seats to myself. I smiled. Ah! My worst nightmare had no chance of coming true. I reckoned that since I already had had so much misfortune, I would probably be stuck with an "over-sized" family with a kid that would kick and scream the whole 9 hour flight. Not so. Instead I had plenty of space to myself. Rows in front and back without anybody. Loved it.
When I left Oslo, it was raining. So I ended up bringing an umbrella with me. When I got to Gatwick, I was told to pack it into a specially designated bag. I opened the bag. And looked at her with an unbelieving look. "This bag?!" She nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry!". It was big enough to fit a cow. With food for two days and a milking machine. At this moment, I was ready to just throw my umbrella in the trash bin. But I thought : "I carried my umbrella through Vietnam for 4 weeks, and Aeroflot managed to bring it home safely. With its own tag and stuff. It should be interesting to see if this would work too." It did. The umbrella arrived in one piece. So I am covered now, in more than one sense, for a rainy day. Hopefully, it will not be on Friday morning...
The virgin I flew :
The car
I arrived at the AVIS counter at Orlando International. Took out my voucher and handed it to the guy at the counter. "Oh! You have got some sweet ride waiting for you!" he said with a big smile. "Red or black?" he asked. "Red!" I said. I arrived at parking space R36. There it was. In all of its glory. My Dodge Challenger with the Hemi V8. I got in and turned the key. "ROARRrrrrrrrrrumblerumblerumble!" it snarled in response. Ooooooo. Goosebumps! After some fiddling with the GPS, I was on my way. I had opted for Norwegian language on the GPS. Big mistake. The poor lady was trying to pronounce the American names in Norwegian. I had to look constantly at the GPS to try to decipher what she tried to say. So today, I will change it back to English.
The traffic on the highways was light. Luckily. Slightly jet-lagged and with a Norwegian lady misleading me I needed the space. I must have appeared like a drunk driver to others. Normally, I hate getting the "red menace" in cities. But this time, it was fun. I was hoping for a red light. Every time the lights changed from red to green, I floored the gas. I felt a kick in the back. And everybody else was in my rear view mirror in seconds. And the breaks. Oh! I love the breaks. Smooth to begin with, but when you drop your foot, you hang in the belt. Wow, what a feeling! With music on the radio, the AC breezing the short stubs on my hair, and the arm resting on the mid console, I waz cruzn! Into the sunset and towards my hotel.
Hotel for champions
The hotel was the second cheapest I could find. The Champions World Resort. Smack in the middle of nowhere. Mc and 7-Eleven nearby. And just a few miles from what appears to be "the strip" of Kisseemee. The place where every hotel, motel, and ticket office seemed to have landed on a small, cramped piece of property. Driving through there yesterday, it felt like Vegas. Bright, shining lights and signs. Everybody advertising the cheapest tickets to Disney. And buying unused tickets. I tried not to be too mesmerized by it. If I had looked at every sign, I probably would have rear-ended somebody, or run a red light or something. I am not going to Disney World anyhow.
The hotel was OK. Clean, just off the highway. With several pools, and friendly staff. The beds are enormous, and the toilet low. I was trying to find the logic to this. Big beds = good value. Low toilet = YOU ARE A BIG GUY!!!! Maybe not. Maybe I should stop trying to find the logic in things...
Today, I am thinking of driving out to the Cape, to see how long it takes, and to get a feel for where I want to drive to get there. I know I will probably have to get up at 2 or 3 AM in the morning to get there by 5 AM. As the car ticket say I have to. So I am trying not to turn my days around. But rather get to bed early and get up early. So I won't be too tired on Friday.
Two days to go, and I've got the t-shirt! (I found the Mars Planets in Gatwick Airport. They seemed appropriate...)
Ragnar
With a license to drive
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