BOSTON/LONDON –This was a real flight of fantasy. We wanted to go to London to visit the Queen Wiley on our way to Umbria. To see her, spend a few days enjoying London and to get almost on Italian time. So that let us take the day trip to London. Love, love day flights to Europe. And really loved this flight as the plane was almost empty. The airlines rarely do that empty plane thing anymore. But this flight, on this day, on this AA flight, was less than a quarter full. In Economy.
My wife has a theory on the joys of Economy Class. She has noted several times that on less than full flights Business Class will be stuffed to the gills and YOOHOO, ANYBODY HOME? in dumb old Economy Class. She thinks the airlines are making nice and upgrading favorite flyers because they can – on a lightly packed flight. But she observes that it is sometimes better to just hang back in steerage and spread out. Case in point: this particular trip. Midge had her own row. I had staked one out as well. Until the dad ahead of me jumped up holding an empty “airline sickness” bag. I usually more delicately refer to them by the street name of barf bag but in the name of chic and decorum thought I would show that I knew it had a real name. Anyway, daddy pops straight up out of the row ahead of me like a Jack in the Box hoping to get out of the line of fire and looks down at Little Billy – totally wide eyed and open mouthed. You can read what he’s thinking “Hey, Billy. I’ve got the bag. Right here.” I could tell which way the wind was blowing so jumped up too and said “Please. Take this row.” And I was gone. I was so checking out of that hotel and quickstepping it to the back, trying not to trip over my armload of blankets and headsets. Seconds later I was taking over yet another empty row of five across.
Huh? Are we in London? Already? Cool.
But you’ve got to wonder: Who’s sitting in little Billy’s row the day after? Ugrrrgh.
DAY TRIPPERS, YEAH.
Here’s the good part of day trips to London (versus the more typical overnight flights to Europe): they get you to London in early evening – London time. What we call dinner and see you, goodnight time. Totally lovely. And you’re not beat from the flight because even if its midnight there in London, its only seven pm on your body clock. How tired can you be at seven pm with all that napping on the flight anyway, right? That’s what I think. This continues to be my favorite flight concept of late. Great excuse for a couple days in London.
So. Day trips rule. And on day trips or any trip, don’t let them upgrade you out of economy if economy is empty. Of course if an airline offers to upgrade you past Business and all the way to the whole sleeper seat First Class, sure, take that! Smile and say “Thank you very much, I will try to be worthy. And I will try to look like First Class material.” British Airways has upgraded me to that twice. No idea why but Oh Stewardess, more hot towels here please! We never turn those sweet seats down.
See you in Italy,
Stew
P.S. The new format on the blog here? Love it? Hate it? We think you can finally leave comments now. Probably should be careful what I wish for! And it has a search function. I don’t know if it has perfect recall but it seems to be able to dredge by subject to some extent. I wish it would highlight the word you put in search but we haven’t trained it to do that as of yet. Meglio di niente as they say.
YARMOUTH, MAINE, LONDON, FLORENCE— October is here, October is here! We can count the days till we leave for Italy. 18. Ah, that is a fine looking number. Finally. Whew. But HOW do we get there? Let me count the ways. We’ve flown into Antwerp, London, Frankfurt, Paris and probably other places I’ve forgotten about. 
BIG NEW NEWS
We used it as a chaser, a cool down follow up to our time in Umbria. And it is right on our way home. Italy, strangely, was the main reason we were in the Paesi Basi (Olanda) because that was where the Caravaggio Show to end all Caravaggio Shows was this summer. All my Italian friends were mad to go to the show and we did have a lovely Italy trip and then finished it off with the Italian extravaganza in the Rijksmuseum. What a rush. It was technically the Caravaggio and Rembrandt show in honor of Rembrandt’s 400th Birthday. But to me they were just riding on Caravaggio’s coattails and I didn’t care as long as I got to see this once in a lifetime collection of Caravaggio’s work. 
And what if it was written just like that, in Italianspeak, on posters and keychains and such everywhere you looked? In California, America. That would be strange wouldn’t it? Well. I think so. But there is the slogan for Amsterdam and it is a strange word game pun in English. The words “I am Amsterdam” contracted to IAMSTERDAM.
Amsterdam. What is up with the name? You got an Amstel River. You Dam it up, you got you an AmstelDam. Say that fast for a few hundred years and it comes out Amsterdam. Think that is what the guides were implying. Why did I need to be told that? Very nice town, most of it looks like Mayfair in London to me. But with less street flash, very understated. Rolls Royces and Bentleys are a dime a dozen in London. Here, its all decidedly down scale bikes, buses and boats of every stripe.
Ok, the first thing to do is to get tickets for the show. 
Carts out front. Big carts. Truck sized carts. Kids on mom’s bike front and back. Hippies on bikes, bow tied professors, a waiter in a tux. Was he a waiter or a man about town? Can’t tell here. The pedal pushers pour down the streets. In their own major lanes. They may look like sidewalks. But. Do. Not. Step. Out there. These people live for their bikes and on them. And with out pretension. All the bikes look to be old, single speed clunkers. Rusting or hand painted with a brush. Almost all are Model T black. Not about flash. And trust me no one, repeat no one, is wearing spandex. They wear what they are wearing and get on their bikes to get there. At the ferry terminal there is a four level parking garage. For only bikes. Off into infinity sized garage. They seem to be used across all levels of society. Function over Form. Noting how much a part of the fabric of life bikes are there and then reading at the Anne Frank house how the Nazis made the Dutch Jews turn in their bikes made me think again what a cruel, intentionally brutal, dehumanizing mind set was in play there. 
But, let’s talk about something fun: This art show was awesome. We’ve seen some great ones in the last few years. Picasso Matisse, Manet Monet, etc. The Rembrandt Caravaggio one really may have taken the prize. The American judges in our party had the Italian leading 2-1. In my side by side comparison Caravaggio was whupping Rembrandt and had him on the canvas. Grayson backed me up on this, but Midge was slightly leaning toward the Dutchman. Heresy. Or Home Court advantage? 
When you come around one of the many corners they built into this exhibit and come face with one of his blood curling canvases (Judith beheading Holofernes) it about makes you miss a step. Prepare to be baffled when you see one up close. Thinking maybe you could see a brushstroke on that dewy piece of fruit or the bad boy angel’s wings? Think again. I’ve painted. OK, it was art school. In another galaxy, far, far away. But still. No earthly idea how he put the paint on the canvas. And the details in the shadows. I kept leaning closer and closer and seeing more and more. Hands way behind my back, hoping the guards wouldn’t push me away before I drank it all in. But it didn’t help. I got as close as close could be, reading glasses on, and still could not imagine how the deep black shadows on the dark edge of an arm could become warm, tender skin in the highlights of the same arm. 
STAMP COLLECTING?