In the Beginning

Every vacation takes planning and preparation.  A vacation abroad takes a bit more. For example, did you know it includes the reading of 13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson? Apparently, my reading about a teen backpacking through Europe with an itinerary given to her in blue envelopes by her dead aunt was to prepare me for our trip; clearly a story for another day.

I also made a call to Air Transat to question my taking a crochet hook on board.

“No, it’s not two pointed sticks, it’s one rounded hook.”

“And what is this hook used for?”

“Well, it is a crochet hook. I use it to crochet.”

"Do you know the French word?"  Let’s just say at this point, I was happy this wasn’t on Skype.

Having my fears of plummeting into the North Atlantic assuaged by friends who had flown with the same airline we were taking, my travel panic attacks lessened. However, my fear of getting car sick on the bus was no doubt going to come true.

The day arrives. Luggage, check. Tickets, check. Passports, check. Medical alert and St. Christopher bangles, check. My husband volunteered to take us to the bus station, the type of volunteering I believe is implicated in the military.

The megabus comes from New York City and is usually on time. Unless, of course, I’m traveling and on a tight time schedule. Not only did we get to the bus station 45 minutes early, the bus was late. We should have taken this as a sign.

On Saturday mornings, while driving my daughter to work, we see the same elderly gentleman standing at a bus stop. He is always dressed in a suit and seems to engage in pleasant conversation with another commuter. After checking the arrival time of the bus, again, we saw our gentleman standing by a pamphlet stand hawking his religious wares. The mystery is gone.

Sorry, back on track. We boarded the bus 75 minutes later than scheduled, but we were on our way. And then, we weren’t. Going through the US Canadian border went smoothly and we should have been out of there within minutes. I’d over heard from other passengers the bus was delayed in Buffalo because the breakdown of the bus around Rochester. The company sent a new, off the assembly line bus to replace it. With this, we were told the battery was dead on the bus and they were waiting for a new battery or a new bus. Time was ticking and our time in Toronto becoming less and less. Late and starving, I munched on a granola bar which not only gave me a headache, but car sick as well.

Found it odd I was finally seeing names of places and streets I’d hear of my entire life listening and watching Canadian television. We did have time for dinner in the food court at the Eaton Centre. Let me just say, Canadians are a trusting lot. Where, here in the States, when you eat in at the food court, you get a higher quality of paper plate and plastic cutlery. In Canada, a glass plate and real flatware. I know, right? Trusting. The only plastic I saw during our quick stay was the money. I’m curious, what happens to the money when it goes through the washer and dryer?

Two trains and a bus costing a small fortune, we arrived at Pearson Airport in the allotted time. We met our first of many angels at Pearson. As we were looking for signs to get us to the correct counter, she came up to us and basically realized we were a bit lost, announced she was headed for the same counter and escorted us to Air Transat. We turned and she was gone. With our boarding passes in hand, our first stop was security. Silly me, I set off the alarm with the medical alert and St. Christopher bracelets. However, crochet hook was not detected.

After a couple hours of people watching, free entertainment in my mind, our flight had announced it would begin boarding. The adventure continues.