Day ii - Elite Status

1 July 2009

So, I’ve read flying through London was supposed to be a nice experience; so many people do it every day. There’s apparently a lounge that, because I’m so awesome (well, because I have so much American status, but partly because I’m so awesome), I can take a shower in after I deplane, and relax, unwind, and grab a free bite to eat. And that’s all I wanted. Yeah I never found the place. I was also an hour late getting in. My connection was now down to under two hours. I still had to get across to the new Terminal 5, by way of a crammed bus, through passport control, and back through security again. The entire ordeal left me with about 30 minutes to spare. NEVER AGAIN AM I CONNECTING THROUGH HEATHROW.

The connecting flight was rather uneventful, and as horrendous as the rest of Heathrow is, Terminal 5 is very nice. I even found the British Airways Club, to which I easily gained access. For about 10 minutes. But I must say, what a step up (3 steps up, honestly) in class and service. I’ve never seen so much free food, alcohol, and newspaper in my life (in one room).

Fearing as usual I wouldn’t be able to find my immediate carmates, Ola thankfully spotted me from a mile away, and before long (well, semi-long), we were on our way out of Nice and into Cap d’Ail, our staging point.

“Can I give you my Marriott number?” I said, in my embarrassingly broken French while checking in. Though it didn’t give me much better of a room, I do have quite the unbeatable view of the Mediterranean from the 9th floor. But having my clock all messed up and not getting too much sleep on the short flight, I took a well-deserved nap.

Wednesday evening brought the opening meeting, and we were all happy and reacquainted again. Even the new boss had kind words about our camaraderie. A lot of good people here this year, and plenty of fresh new faces – because we are in HD for the first time, that means a new truck plus a new truck crew. Which is too bad, because the Belgians are awesome, and we’ve made a lot of good friends with them over the years.

After all of the formalities, a large group of us found our way to a large dinner, in a restaurant called il Capitano, which had excellent seafood. In typical Cote d’Azur (French Riviera) fashion, the meal took all night.

With our clocks all out of whack, it wasn’t really time to quit, so I followed Erik P. on a 20 minute walk to the heart of Monaco to party with some of the locals. Docks were full of multi-million dollar yachts. Bars full of young and beautiful people were spilling out onto the streets. It’s only customary that the first night we arrive at Le Tour, we produce a show of the shit variety.