Schoolmarm on Break
A sister blog to A Schoolmarm's Musings
Thursday, June 4, 2026
London: Day 5
Sunday, May 31, 2026
London: Day 4
- "Trying to maintain good relations with a communist is like wooing a crocodile. You do not know whether to tickle it under the chin or to beat it over the head."
- "It will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself."
- "If you cannot read all your books at any rate... fondle them, peer into them, let them fall open where they will, set them back on the shelf with your own hands."
- "We are all worms, but I do believe that I am a glow worm."
Saturday, May 30, 2026
London: Day 3
Saturday, May 30
Today was supposed to be a Free Day. Basically that meant we didn't plan precisely, but had lots of discussion about what we all wanted to do.
We left the flat a little after 9:00. It was very blissful to get a little more sleep. All of us headed to the British Museum, which was a must-see on my London list.
Most of the group just popped in for a bit to get a quick overview then went shopping and exploring, but Lindsay and I settled in for the day.
Friday, May 29, 2026
London: Day 2
Thursday, May 29
We were supposed to leave the flat at 6:00 a.m. My alarm was certainly going off in time for that to happen, but I felt rebellious and very tired. Furthermore, I consoled myself with the thought that I didn't hear anyone else getting up and around yet, either. So as the completely responsible adult that I am, I stayed in bed.
I finally roused myself around a quarter til. It seemed that suddenly the whole flat came to life around me. It became apparent that among incorrectly set alarms, oversleeping, and rebellion (me), our whole group had failed to get up on time.
In spite of the rough beginning, we still managed to catch the tube on time and arrive at Paddington Station in time to catch the train to our tour of the Cotswolds.
- So far we've been super impressed with how gentlemanly a lot of these men have been, offering to carry suitcases up and down steps and whatnot. In spite of the sterotypes of quiet Londoners, they are very friendly and helpful if you ask them a question.
- The current exchange rate is about 1 pound to $1..40 USD.
- The ice is lacking.
- Loud Americans really are a thing.
- The bathrooms don't have door gaps and there has been a hook on the door for purses in every single one I've been in so far. A little thing, but sometimes those details are important!
- We're supposed to remove our shoes at the front door of our flat. Somehow we're having a hard time remembering. Also, our flat is spread out over three levels, so we have stairs and more stairs.
- We walked a little over 16000 steps today.
- So many women wearing pretty flowing dresses and skirts!
- People make little hobby crafts or goods and leave them out on their doorstep or a table and leave mobile payment information or a cash box and use the trust system. It delights me.
Thursday, May 28, 2026
London: Arrival and Day 1
Tuesday, May 26
I wasn't even angry about spending hours in the Atlanta airport. Occasionally I wandered around the terminal, but always circulated back to the my gate. By the end of the day even the cleaners were commenting on how long I'd been there.
Gloria had a delay in Pensacola and showed up only about three minutes before her zone was called for the London flight. I didn't see her again until we landed at Heathrow.
Wednesday, May 27
I hadn't managed to connect to in-flight Wifi for some reason, so we were on the ground before I found out the rest of our group had their flight canceled in Chicago. Luckily they were still able to catch a later flight, but they didn't get in until about midnight.
Meanwhile, Gloria and I found the flat we had rented, about an hour and a half away from the airport between the tube and walking, and I took a shower. A blissful, blissful shower.
Impressions of the tube, by the way? Hot, stuffy, crowded. Not a super fun thing in my opinio, except for the people watching. After getting cleaned up we walked over to the Sunflower Cafe.
Tuesday, May 26, 2026
Dear DFW and American Airlines: A Break-Up Letter
Dear DFW and American Airlines:
It is 1:10 a.m. I am in Terminal D, the same terminal where we girls all met to fly to Egypt over a year ago. About twenty minutes ago I was privileged to meet some sisters in the faith from Guatemala. I don't know their names, but I know their smiles. They were visiting in Mississippi or Missouri, I'm not sure which, for a granddaughter's graduation. This is one of the things I love about you, the way you provide me with opportunities to meet people I never would have otherwise.
While I've been here I've chatted with people who've traveled from Bangkok and New Jersey. Both foreign places to some degree. I have rejoiced with the guys standing in line at the service desk who kept letting people go ahead of them while they waited an hour for their buddy to join them. I smiled when a grandmotherly lady brought them chocolate chip cookies as a thank you. I've reveled in the homey, familiar sound of accents from my old stomping grounds near Mobile. Not that you would let me fly there, of course.
I thought we were going to get along forever. I never envisioned this day would come so swiftly and brutally. It's not that I quit loving you, exactly, because Texas will always hold a bit of my heart, but we have grown apart. There's no point in pretending things will ever be quite the same again. Once you have broken a person's trust to this degree, it's only natural that there would be some caution in any type of relationship going forward.
It wasn't long ago I told someone that I had never had a flight canceled. At least, not one that I had booked for myself. "Don't jinx it," they said. And I only laughed, because I believed in you. I really did.
The first hints of trouble brewing made their appearance on Sunday. I was relaxing at my gate when the announcement was made. So sorry, but the flight was canceled. Canceled! There was no gentle let-down, no subtle delays to warn me. DFW did not want my presence. It was quick and brutal and unforgiving. And we were only ten minutes from departure.
And so I tried to make peace. I rebooked, as you, American Airlines, suggested. I understood that sometimes people have their own personal storms to work through before they can make amends. So I tried to do my part, go the extra mile. I really thought it would work.
Monday arrived. Security was a breeze. I waited across from a bookstore where there was a section of books displaying Theo of Golden prominently, which reminded me that the same is waiting for me to continue listening to on Audible. I enjoyed watching people make selections. My first flight of the day carried me in a state of bliss toward your welcoming land. Again, there was little warning until the announcement. We were in a holding pattern, we were told. We might be holding for an hour.
Storms were brewing, they said, on every side. But when I talked to the kindergarten teacher seated beside me, she said her friends in Dallas said the storms only lasted fifteen minutes. Nonetheless, since you had started the awkward miscommunications, things soon spiraled out of control. Our pilot came back on to say that we had been diverted.
Rejection! Any relationship guru can tell you how harmful rejection is. Instead of the Lone Star State, we were being shuttled off to Oklahoma City. I don't personally have anything against Oklahoma (except disagreeing with a certain co-teacher that it's the best state ever), but that wasn't where I wanted to be. We waited there for around two and a half hours, amidst reassurances that DFW was closed completely down, all flights delayed, and we'd probably still reach ours on time.
Unfortunately, by the time the fuel truck finally showed up (What's up with only one fuel truck, OKC?), my flight had departed from DFW. In vain I tried to communicate. I was met with a brick wall of silence. Well, mostly. The agent I communicated with told me that he couldn't see any updates and I'd have to wait until I landed in DFW to figure out my next move. Seems you need to be a bit more in touch with your own emotion, or motions, or whatever it is, American.
So I tried to relax, tried to tell myself everything would work out between us. Because I'm a hopeless optimist sometimes. But you had more pain in store.
When I finally felt the good solid linoleum of DFW under my feet, I didn't know where to start because everything had disappeared from my app. I took some time to gaze at the flight schedules and determined there were two flights heading out yet that could get me where I wanted to go: one to Mobile and one to Pensacola. Both were located in Terminal E. I decided I may as well go to that terminal for help.
Once there, I joined a line of people at the customer service counter. I also dialed you, American, on the phone and placed a callback order, not sure which would be faster. I was told the callback wait was ninety minutes. The line only took thirty to forty-five, so that was nice.
But here's what they say about relationships, American: The relationships that fail can be determined by watching whether or not the partners respond to bids for attention. I should have guess ours was doomed when the agent mumbled at me through her mask and barely made eye contact. I was being as gracious and agreeable as possible under the circumstances, and although she did not respond to my bids for friendliness, I made excuses for her when she printed off a nice new boarding pass and shoved it across the counter to me.
The sad thing is that the flight was delayed before I even made it to the gate which was all of a one minute walk away, thanks to my strategy of figuring out which terminal held the likely flights. After an hour's wait or so, the plane arrived. Everything looked to still be on schedule. Even then we might have been able to salvage our relationship, but it was not to be.
I noticed a sad absence of crew members around the gate. The flight was delayed again. And then? I almost expected it by now, because how many flights actually depart at 12:20 a.m.? Canceled. Again.
I stood by the wall, trying to see what options your app would give me. I was starting to wonder if that's all I had left of you.
Another passenger said loudly that if they let him on he could fly that plane. He might not land it perfectly, but he could get us there. A woman standing near me gave a metaphorical snort. "I'm a pilot," she said, "there's no way he could fly that plane."
I asked her if she flew commercial or private. She said private. I would have talked to her more, but I was really getting concerned about our relationship by that point, so I again took measures to fix things. All the disappointments and rejections I have ever experienced came flooding back as I stood waiting in line at Customer Service once again. That might be an exageration, but you get the point.
I was in line with a lot of people trying to reach Mobile. The man behind me showed me screenshots of why the flight had been canceled and seemed to want to chat. So did the woman ahead of me. That is one thing to be said for you, DFW. Perhaps you don't do too well with relationships, but you have apparently learned that humans bond quickly in adverse circumstances. Thankfully the line moved fairly quickly.
The agent I met with this time genuinely did her best to help me. I explained my predicament. All flights available in the morning would get in too late for me to catch my London flight out of Pensacola. She said she could route me straight to Pensacola if she sent me on a detour through Houston. That sounded OK, until I found out that I'd get into Pensacola at 4:00, have to deplane, collect my bag, check it back in, go through security, and get on my next flight. It would not give a lot of extra time, and no extra time at all if there were to be more delays.
Your motto is, apparently, "Let Good Take Flight." By several minutes after midnight I was starting to think all your good really had taken flight. I will hand it to your agents. They did their best, but you've got to come up with some way to help them out. They were clearly over-worked and exhausted. They worked on figuring out arrangements for me to fly straight to Atlanta for forty-five minutes or an hour. And part of that time the poor agent was battling against your own system. She would put in flight details, and someone or something working from the opposite end kept changing them back.
She did not seem disappointed to abandon me (Do you see a pattern here? betrayal, no communication, abandonment, etc., etc.) {That was for you, Sadie.} and go run something down to crew on the ground or something. Her manager took over and within an astonishingly short time had found me a flight to Atlanta, which departs at 9:35 a.m. and arrives around half past 12. I do think second chances are in place, but I'm not sure how many chances to give after that.
Currently, I am exhausted, but unable to sleep. I have removed my contacts and am remembering why I don't like glasses; they always slide down my nose. I feel like an absolute ball of grease and unsavory smells. I am slightly ravenous. And I am slowly becoming a bit unhinged. Your emotional manipulations have worn me down.
Maybe I will regret this, but I think it's over between us. I know everyone goes through difficult seasons in life, but your season of spring and summer storms is too much for me, DFW. I need something a little more calm and stable. And American, your traffic control was a mess. There were planes piled all over the place just waiting to have some direction. This won't do, you know.
The only hope of salvaging this relationship is if you can find me some cheesecake somewhere. Then, maybe, I'll consider letting the past be the past. But for now? You've done too little too late. I shall always remember you with fondness, but there comes a time to let things go.
Bittersweet memories and all that, I shall always love you, but it's best if I go, to loosely quote.
The end.
P.S. I wasn't kidding about the cheesecake, although I know nothing is as dramatic as it seems at this hour in the morning.
London: Day 5
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