The hotel might be a bit grotty, but least breakfast is free. The downside being that it’s a plastic plate and cutlery job. That can’t be good for the environment.
There’s no bacon, but there are scrambled eggs and little sausages. The latter swimming gaily in grease. It’ll have to do. I try not to pay attention to Fox News, which is jabbering away in a corner. Just as I’m trying not to pay too much attention to the texture of the sausages. Or their taste. I’m scared of what I’ll find if I look too hard.
It’s not my poshest breakfast ever, but it’s filled a hole that needed filling. And it was free. I keep reminding myself that.
My flight isn’t until 3:20 PM. Ideally, I’d like to head there a little after 1 PM. But checkout is at noon. After I’ve filled my hole, I go to reception and ask if I can check out a little later, say at 1 PM.
“Sure. Just give me a good tip.” The young lady at the counter replies.
“Fine by me.”
I go back to my room for some serious hanging around pointlessly while watching TV and fiddling on the internet simultaneously. At 12:15 I get a call.
“You need to check out sir.”
“I’ve arranged to check out a little later.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that, sir. We’ve too many guests arriving today.”
Bum. I don’t rush to pack up my gear and head to check out. At least I squeezed in an extra half hour in the hotel.
Once checked out, I take a cab. It’s a fixed fare this way, too. Quite civilised, that.
I check in two bags this time, keeping only my grey DDR bag with me. It doesn’t take long, as I have Sky Priority. That’s so handy. Makes most of the airport crap much less stressful.
Unlike at JFK, I’ve very little walking to do. Especially considering the size of the airport. There’s a little food court on the first floor of the pier. Perfect. I can do weird tapas. I kick off with a taco at the Mexican place. Followed by two pork and egg spring rolls, then a portion of onion rings. How multi-culti is that?
While I’m eating, I power up my laptop. Not to get on the internet or anything. To watch some episodes of Taskmaster series one. It helps pass the time nicely.
When it gets closer to boarding time I move towards the gate, hoping to find a bar to drink a final toast to the US. That looks like one just down there. Oh. It’s a Belgian beer bar. I suppose that will do. I order a Duvel and a Jack Daniels. What an odd way to end.
I’ve got a comfort seat again. No point suffering unnecessarily. I watched all the episodes of Archer that they have on the way out. So I switch on my laptop and go back to watching Taskmaster.
Soon after I’ve eaten and had a couple of whiskies, I settle down for a kip. Which works surprisingly well. I awake just before they serve us breakfast. Perfect.
My bags pop out soon after I arrive at the carousel. I’m in no rush, so I get the bus home. What a good boy I am.
I’ll be back here soon. I fly to London tomorrow evening.
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