This was also a jetlag reunion. There’s a 5-hour time difference (normally) between the east coast of the States and the UK. I say “normally” because we had cleverly arranged to arrive in Washington DC on the night that the UK changed its clocks back to GMT from BST. The States, however, changes its clocks next weekend. Thus, we hit the sack five hours adrift and woke up (after eventually getting to sleep) four hours adrift. Great stuff.
Understanding nothing of clock changes (in common with yours truly) our body clocks, of course, were working on five hours adrift. As expected, we awoke early. I had originally thought of returning to the airport for our rental car at 10:00 but there seemed little point hanging around twiddling our thumbs so we went down for an unscintillating breakfast before boarding the 09:00 shuttle bus to the airport.
a couple of things:
- When it’s operating, the shuttle bus runs to the airport every hour on the hour. Though the arriving guest instructions are to phone for a ride, I do not believe the bus departs any time in between the hours, which would explain why we had trouble getting a ride last night.
- A poster in the hotel elevator spoke of “our carefully curated breakfast”. What on earth is a curated breakfast – it sounds like something out of a museum? (I really must look that word up.) Since the protein content consisted of slices of turkey sausage and indifferent scrambled eggs, I think a museum might be appropriate. (The eggs were improved by the addition of some Tabasco sauce.)
The shuttle bus returned from its 08:00 airport run. We sat waiting nearby for the 09:00 run, along with our new friendly passenger in distress from last night.
We got to the airport, disembarked the hotel shuttle and embarked on the Hertz car rental shuttle. All was well with our reservation. Since I detest renting vehicle, I’m now in the habit of taking the full insurances. I did so again. After Darwin knows how many additional charges were also added to the bill, having previously “paid for” the car using Francine’s airmiles, we still ended up with a thumping $1200+ charge for the 2-week rental. ”Welcome to America|”, said the lady. Indeed.
I was curious about toll charges. On my previous visits I’d been used to tossing coins into a basket at a toll booth. Happily now the car has an electronic tag, similar to those we now use in France and Spain, so it should be automated, though our lady thought we wouldn’t incur any charges. We’ll see. That gets sorted when we return.
We went and found our Ford Explorer, an upgrade from what we thought we’d ordered. Clambering in to an unfamiliar car and staring at its controls is always exciting though, this being a Ford, I had some clues from good ol’ Frodo.
Francine had invested in an Holafly e-sim so that we’d be able to navigate using good ol’ Google Maps. That fired up well, too – we were on a roll. Francine connected it to the Explorer’s USB socket and lo, our route appeared on the car’s screen. Brilliant stuff. We had no idea which route Google had chosen – it had three options when I tried at home before departing – but we were off.
Most routes involve heading south on the I95 from some point and that’s where we finally ended up. After 70 miles or so, turn onto the I295 across the top of Richmond and we’re getting close. A sign to a Starbucks grabbed my attention and, close to our destination, we paused to relax with a coffee before descending on our friend.
I had driven one of the routes between Washington Dulles and Richmond many years ago before the days of GPS and navigation systems. Once you get to the I95 it’s a doddle but getting from the airport to the I95 is more complex. I honestly cannot remember how I did it without a passenger to read a map.
Our final destination was a retirement community with a security guard on a barrier. She logged us in and presented us with a visitor pass so we could come and go for the duration. It’s an enormous retirement community; finding our way in, having parked in a “visitor” slot as instructed, proved problematic. A nice lady with a barky dog helped us. In return or some fuss, her dog stopped barking,
Approaching the apartment, we were met by an open door. Reunions ensued which did of course, require hugs, beer and wine.
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