Much earlier flight than usual, so the alarm set for 4:15. Already packed, so we’re at the tube station as it opens at 5:00. And not alone, either. There are a dozen other people waiting for the first trains through. Heathrow train from South Kensington is both later and much fuller than we expected, but we’re at Heathrow by twenty to seven. And know to ask for a human when we go to check in.
And, for the first but not the last time, we encounter someone who ignores our proffered sheet of paper and asks to just see our passports. Also, for the first but not the last time, the person we initially encounter has to find a superior to refer us to. But we’re through, though with a boarding pass only for the first segment - London to Dublin. You can get the next boarding pass at the transfer desk in Dublin - no, you won’t need to go through security again, just the transfer desk.
Cheered by this, and not having an assigned gate yet anyway, we make a quick stop at duty free and pick up two bottles of gin. Sharp woman on the desk, who picks up instantly that a) our travel documents show that we are indeed leaving the EU, despite a boarding pass that will take us only as far as Dublin, and b) we can therefore take an officially sealed bottle with us. So two sealed bottles of gin. And barely time to collect two coffee Americanos, very hot but they’ll be nice on the plane because the flight’s at ten to nine and we’ve been up forever. First flight is Aer Lingus, a code share with Air Canada. Get referred and checked through separately - you can board as soon as you finish your coffees. Well, so much for coffee.
Sleep pretty well all the way to Dublin and then disembark and look for the transfer desk. Find it. Says closed - and to follow the arrows to the alternate transfer desk. There are lots of arrows because it’s a longish way. Think at first that at least Toronto has a trottoir. What on earth is the English - moving sidewalk sounds so clumsy? (Actually, all this means is that I associate trottoir with airport moving sidewalks, but the moving bit is not inherent in the word).
Transfer desk wants our non-existent boarding passes. We explain. The very nice lady is sympathetic, but we’ll have to get them from Air Canada. That’s at the other terminal, but it’s not a long walk. Just back and exit through the luggage claim area and turn left. You’ll be fine. Just ask anyone as you go. We do. The young lady we ask is not nearly as sympathetic, but purses her lips and does her duty. She takes us to immigration. We’re horrified. Not that it would be a bad place to immigrate to, but all they’re going to do is ask for our passports - and then we’ll have to go through security again. With limited time and two bottles of gin. The official at immigration is no problem. Passports? Oh, that’s fine. Done.
But we’re now officially in Ireland. Need boarding passes and then through security - again. Large Air Canada woman says oh definitely no liquid through security. Never. But takes us to Nina, who checks us out on her computer. Small problem. Could we just go over to the desk on the other side. And about the gin. That’s not fair, she murmurs. See if security will let it through. If not, come back to me and I’ll check it through in one of your carry-ons. The desk-on-the-other-side lady is nice too. Some difficulty in reaching Canadian officialdom, who appear, the efforts of the High Commission notwithstanding, never to have heard of us.
As we wait I empty the things I don’t want to leave in a carry-on entrusted to Air Canada’s tender mercies into a plastic bag - mostly various electronic plugs and cables. Also sterling and euro coins which I dump loose into the bottom of my new handbag. We’ve chosen my carry-on to take the gin if necessary as it’s old, tattered, and of no commercial value. Bought as an extra carrier years ago. Cheap then and an unattractive camouflage, it has somehow never been retired. The family joke is that its security feature is that no thief with any standards would give it a second glance. But it’s impossible to lock satisfactorily. It’s never previously been entrusted with a decent bottle. Eventually we are approved, though, and given boarding passes for the flights to both Toronto and Winnipeg. And security no problem at all. They know all about sealed liquor. Just a brief panic when one bottle of gin seems to have disappeared, but is discovered underneath the plastic tray into which our hazardous possessions are being loaded - three ipad minis and three mobiles. No time to spend euro coins (presuming they could still be identified in the darkest depths of my handbag) but not late for flight.
Air Canada not only unfazed by our travel documents but, as we’ve skipped the queue to deal, once again, with a human, lets us board immediately. Once aboard I point out to J my cleverness in booking via Dublin - which for the past two hours has looked a little short of brilliant. It’s the configuration of the plane, a Boeing 767-300ER. The seats are arranged XX XXX XX. Two aisles with two seats, then three in the middle, then two more. So for the transAtlantic flight no one is sitting with us. A more difficult booking than it sounds, and the reason for our 4 AM rising. It wasn’t too hard to book a flight to London with this configuration (though did that mean we had to fly on a Sunday) but none were available in London returning to Canada. Assuming that they couldn’t all be piling up somewhere in Europe, I pursued this until I discovered the flight from Dublin to Toronto. So we do have good seats. And enough tidbits to significantly improve the quality of Air Canada’s meal. Though fortunately, and in all fairness not unusually, the wine is perfectly drinkable and improves our mood significantly. The crew are forbidden to give you two at a time, but perfectly willing to come back with seconds.
So arrive in Toronto. Canadian citizens to the left and others to the right. J incensed at being treated as non-Canadian, but really the right side queue includes, though not explicitly, everyone not in a position to slide a Canadian passport into “the machine” - the electronic reader. The official we reach is nice, but wastes no time in sending us to ”immigration”, which proves to be the next room, where there are several wickets and a queue of maybe twenty people. Not bad, although they must all be people with problems. The young man we see is nice and efficient. As we discovered, by turning over an emergency travel document to read the reverse side, the immigration officer at our point of entry is required to retain the document. In fact one officer used the term impound. Which would leave us with no (me) or inadequate (J) ID. But when I say this our young man makes a “certified true copy” photocopy for us.
And down to collect our suitcases. The carousel is empty and unmoving, though. There are a few straggler suitcases beside it, but they aren’t ours. We inquire at the Air Canada luggage desk. Oh, they’ll go straight through to Winnipeg. Well, that’s all right then, if accurate. I did ask someone back in London if they went to Toronto and she said yes, but then maybe all Canadian cities seem alike if you’re from away. Now up to departures with our nice certified IDs. You don’t need a passport at all to fly within Canada, just government issued photo ID. This is definitely government issued, and the photos, if unflattering, are clearly us. We’re nearly home free, though free is a bit of a misnomer for this very expensive exercise.
Show our boarding passes and are waved into the security area by someone who barely glances at them and doesn’t ask to see our dubious IDs at all. Then, without warning, and before we’re in the queue, we’re pounced on, almost literally, by a man who seems to have sprung from the sidelines and asked for our boarding passes. No problem. But it seems there is a problem. Who made these? It’s a demand. Air Canada, in Dublin. He looks more than unconvinced. And in fact the young lady who called Ottawa to vet us and then printed the boarding passes for both flights probably wasn’t an Air Canada employee, as she seemed to be doing security checks for more than one airline. Come with me. It’s definitely an order. No time to drink the remaining water, he says, as we’ll be in the front of the line. And he’s in a hurry, quite distressed when I stop to look for the plastic bag of liquids which has, as usual filtered down to the bottom of my handbag.
We are indeed marched to the front of the queue. And they make it clear that they want to keep our belongings separate. No mingling of ipads or jackets. By the time I walk through the scanner and start to reassemble my life J is nowhere to be seen. Unnerving, until I spot him at one side being given what looks like a regular enhanced check. His trays are taken and checked separately. And interestingly they’re not at all concerned with the sandwiches and buns that have made it through. My mentally rehearsed explanation of the legitimacy of their contents not required. No need to explain that peanut butter is a legume and not a nut product. The gin gets what appears to be routine testing and its bags are resealed. However, the security man puts on latex gloves to handle J’s boarding pass, while showing no interest at all in mine, or in our IDs. Just as they have shown no interest in any of my possessions in the trays, while keeping J’s aside as if contaminated.
You’re wondering why this is happening, he asks. We are. It’s random. What’s your airline? Well, Air Canada has identified you for a security check. Which sounds about as unrandom as it is possible to get. Gloves removed and boarding pass returned. And still no idea what just happened. Feels a bit like life in a spy novel. Doesn’t require paranoia to believe that they were actually waiting for us, or at least for J. Equipped with a photo? You do get your picture taken - remove the glasses please and look at the red light - when leaving Heathrow. Weird. And if they really think J is a terrorist or whatever, wouldn’t it be a bit slack not to think he might have given me the incriminating material before we reached security?
Last flight check in and we overcome the temptation to approach the desk and ask whether our documents have to be referred to higher authority. And if our suitcases are onboard then they have to delay the flight and remove them if they don’t let us on. Not quite an ace up the sleeve, but maybe a jack. Or maybe only a deuce. And, oddly, we have noticed, on J’s boarding pass, handscrawled SSSS. Or S8S5? Not easy to tell. But when did it appear? Back in Dublin or later? Pass now officially stamped by security. Twice. And we have been rehabilitated. Maybe. Certainly there is not so much as a raised eyebrow as we board the flight for Winnipeg. And when we arrive bags on the carousel. Been a long day - approximately twenty-three hours since we got up.
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