Not sure where, but I read that to fly to Ireland, one needed a passport that did not expire within 6 months. Glen's was due to end in January and since the Irish site visit was set for September, he needed a new one.
Applying online seemed to the best way to apply as getting to the downtown office from the Health Sciences Centre is problematic for Glen. He meant to apply in June but then figured we might need the passport to go to the States to pick Geoff, et al when they visited Victoria. Besides, we had lots of time to apply once we got back to Calgary. Big mistake.
Although the Passport Canada website had the forms, one must actually mail in the application. I sent it priority post and a week later, Glen's old passport came back. The system appeared to be working. I thought the new passport would arrive within a few days. Wrong. Buried deep in the website is the information that it takes 20 working days to process a passport if it is mailed, ten if one goes to a passport office.
Then Glen got an email saying the passport would arrive on September 21st. We were leaving on the 15th! He called Passport Canada and his passport was at the printers but they did transfer his file to Calgary where it could be expedited. Problem was the woman who got his file could barely speak English and even though Glen sent her all our flight information plus his invitation letter, etc, she recorded we were to leave Friday, not Thursday.
This laboratory site visit required reading through over 250 pages of scientific information plus scanning the 25 CVs of the investigators. Glen spent over two weeks reading about the research and budget then had to write a long report on the positives and negatives of the entire scientific group. This involved a lot of work.
Needless-to-say, Glen was too busy with the first week of classes plus putting the finishing touches on his review to call the passport office. He naively believed everything was working as it should. How wrong he was. Finally, on Wednesday morning, he called to find out what was going on. That's when he learned they thought he flew out on Friday. The file was targeted as urgent then he was told to come to the Calgary office on Thursday at 1pm and he may or may not get his passport.
I felt sick. I was packing and had no idea if I was doing so in vain. I couldn't get excited about travelling to Ireland because I didn't know if I would leave Canada. The flight was due to depart at 6:30pm on Thursday but we wanted to be at the airport by 4:00 to eat, knowing supper on the plane would be late.
One o'clock came and went. I couldn't concentrate on anything. I knew Glen would text me the minute he had the passport but they ticked by with no communications. Finally, at 1:15, he texted to say it was being printed. A half hour later, he had it in his hands and was heading home. I flung the last of our clothes into the suitcase.
We were at the airport in plenty of time but soon learned we would not be sitting together on the plane. The woman at the check-in desk could not move us as we both had middle seats which no one else would want. Resigned to having this flight being the 'one from Hell', we headed for security. Glen was selected for a complete search which included one of the new full-body scans. He thought it was fun.
We headed to the gate at the other end of the airport only to discover there was no place to have a meal so returned to the domestic section so we could eat and have a much needed beer. Chili's was busy but we got a seat and slowly the tension eased. I felt as if my shoulders which had been swallowing my neck finally relaxed.
We returned to the gate and I heard someone rearranging their seats so they could sit together so we tried to do the same. Success!! I even got a window seat. The flight itself was uneventful and I logged 4 hours sleep. We arrived early and had to circle Heathrow. We exited the plane to make our way from Terminal 3 to Terminal 1. Sounds easy, eh?
Since we were not staying in England, we thought we could waltz through the airport with plenty of time to spare. Well, we were wrong. Apparently, even if you are going to Ireland, you must fill in a UK entry form and go through passport control. Then we hopped a bus to take us to Terminal 1. It had to circle around all the construction at the airport to get us to the terminal. Again we had to go through passport control where they removed the bar code they had inserted into our first check.
Security awaited and again we were scrutinized. By this time our jet lagged brains were truly addled and we checked the departures board to see where we had to go. The 12:05 plane to Dublin flashed 'Go to Gate'. We rushed to gate 82 swirling past other passengers to follow a labyrinthian-like route. We arrived as a long line snaked into the plane. We got at its end, sweat pouring off Glen. It was hot in London and we wore fall clothing.
The ticket agent then informed us we were at the wrong gate trying to board the wrong airline. She told us to go to Gate 78 where a BMI plane waited. We did but there were no agents at the gate and the departures board said our flight was boarding at Gate 8. So we ran back to that gate knowing we'd probably not make it but we actually arrived at 11:55. But, there was no plane!!
After taking a deep breath, we found a board that said our flight, which was boarding at 12:05, not departing at 12:05, was now boarding at Gate--you guessed it, 78. Back we flew and got there just as the agents were setting up. We were not sitting together on this flight either so Glen spoke to the agents and they quickly arranged for us to sit next to each other.
It was a short flight to Dublin but all the while I worried about whether our bag made the transition to this flight. I had thought the Air Canada agent said we must pick up our bag in London but Glen insisted it would be transferred. He was right, thank heavens.
We caught a bus outside the terminal that took us to downtown Dublin within a block of our hotel. As it turns out, it stopped right in front of the house in which Oscar Wilde was born. We got checked in and although I dearly wanted to sleep, we had missed lunch in our mad dash through Heathrow so decided to hit a pub for an early supper.Kennedy's was a student/workingman's pub near Trinity College (see photo) and we enjoyed an excellent bowl of creamed vegetable soup and salmon fishcakes, washed down with Smithwicks beer before tumbling into bed at 7:30. I slept solidly, except for an hour or so around midnight, until 8:30am when Glen's rumbling stomach woke us.
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