My apologies to Taylor Swift but I need to write a break up letter.
Dear Edinburgh Airport.
It's not me. It's you. I swear you have like eight hands and none of them know what the others are doing. Most likely, they're sitting with their thumbs somewhere we don't talk about in polite company. You keep the disabled reception room in the equivalent of an outdoor garage. You forget to send people when people in wheelchairs need to get to their plane, even though they had pre-booked. You block off entire sections of hallway because Starbucks wants to, making navigating next to impossible.
In short, we are never ever ever ever getting back together.
Don't call us we won't call you,
Me
Our morning went well. The restaurant staff at the Marriott were brilliant. They dealt well with all of Dad's needs as well as a full-complement of exhausted Swifties. Breakfast was tasty. We got back upstairs a whole 30 minutes early.
Our cabbie was hilarious. Did you know the radio tower at Edinburgh Airport is designed to look like a golf tee? We learned that on the ride over.
It was at the airport everything went to something unmentionable in a hand-basket.
First, the people with the wheelchairs couldn't find us. The actual attendants were lovely gentlemen, but check in, disabled reception, the toilets, and the gates are all at opposite ends of the terminal. (Also, all but one disabled washroom was out of order.)
Mum kept beeping through the scanners. Dad, I understand. He has a metal jaw and hip, but Mum? Every time she went through the scanner she beeped, but when they would hand scan her, nothing but they kept making Mum go back and forth through the scanner. I swear I heard Keystone Kops music playing.
Once we got to the gate, we were rather crowded because our gate shared all the seating with the one next to it and that plane was running late. I had to stand around for half an hour before I could get a seat. Mum and Dad had to be shoved as closely as possible to the benches because Starbucks is building what I can only assume to be an airplane hanger inside the terminal, given the amount of space it was taking up.
Our attendants who took us up to the gate had to leave but we were assured someone would be there about 2 (our flight was supposed to leave at 2:20) to get Mum and Dad on the plane.
Two o'clock came and went, no attendants. At first, it was all right because the flight was delayed. Then people started loading. Usually, those with mobility issues get to board first, but we were told by a very snippy little man who had a little bit of power, and wanted to yield it, they would be loaded last whenever the attendants showed up.
At one point, he was trying to close the disability access line before my mother was in it. When I asked him to wait, he snapped, "Don't yell at me." Dude, I taught high school in the inner city. If I was yelling at you, you would need new underwear, but I know better than to do that in an airport. Eventually, we got help from another passenger getting Mum in line.
Attendants finally appeared and despite there being people other than my parents who had accessibility issues, the gate had no way of getting said people down to the plane. Instead, we made our way several gates over, down the elevator small enough for one wheelchair and one very skinny person, then back across the tarmac to our plane where they hadn't attached a ramp. Cue making our flight even later, and even more Keystone Kops music.
As a side note, once of the attendants in the last part of our journey bore a striking resemblance to my Uncle Gary. It was downright eerie.
The actual flight to Kirkwall was completely uneventful. It was full of tired Swifties but no cranky babies. For that, we were grateful.
Everyone was ready for us in Kirkwall, and one of the attendants there was kind enough to call us a cab when my phone was being a jerk. Soon enough, a lovely man called Brian took us to the Albert Hotel in downtown Kirkwall. I use downtown with a bit of irony there as Kirkwall is about the same size at Lerwick.
Our rooms are lovely. I think my room is the nicest room I've ever stayed in. It has not one, but two televisions, and a separate partitioned seating area. I will get a picture of it at some point.
Dinner was in the restaurant attached to the hotel, Neuk. Tonight's special was roast beef with all the trimmings and the staff adapted it perfectly for Dad to eat. He even scraped the plate. He probably gained a couple of pounds from the meal alone. Mum said it was like something her Nan would make.
That's it for today as we have to be up and out by nine for our tour of the south mainland. Dad's going to get all steeped in war history tomorrow so he'll be happy as a clam.
As for me. I'm going to bed and hopefully not dreaming of the nightmare that was the Edinburgh Airport.
Stats:
Horses: 4 (while landing, I saw them)
Sheep 10000 (so few today)
Tired Swifties: Multitudes.
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