I wondered what lasting impressions Pete might form as I looked over at him, dwarfed in his business-class seat, while the stewardess delivered him an apple juice on the rocks. It's taken me 38 years to ascend to the lofty heights of the first few rows of the plane, and here was a two-year-old enjoying priority boarding and free drinks. We were literally riding Hannah's coat-tails - it was difficult to judge which of her dependents was the biggest fraud.
Being British, I felt the need to apologise to every passenger that filed past us, to tell them that this wasn't my idea and we weren't actually paying. Having a conscience, I wondered about offering my seat to someone in greater need. In the end I didn't allow either moral impediment to move me to action and simply avoided eye contact.
Anyway, the complimentary gin and tonics were actually therapy as we were forced to finally say goodbye to Vancouver. It's a city we would move back to in a heartbeat, and it was not easy to leave so many good friends that we've made in such a short amount of time. We'll be retiring to Victoria, in the British manner, and we're not that far away now, so come to visit, soon.
We landed, got to our hotel, and got Pete to bed on jet-lagged time. DC is hot and sticky and everyone speaks a different language; Maryland = "Muhr-lund", Potomac = "Po-toe-mic". I'd forgotten what happens to English when the Queen isn't Head of State. And if the atmosphere is a little less laid back or willing to apologise than our previous home, that'll set me up nicely for the next time I fly business.
I stocked up on the essentials in duty-free before we flew.
G&T selfie! It was quickly obvious to my fellow business passengers that I did not belong.
It's the only way to travel.
