Back to the USA

Wednesday August 22, 2007 Last night was a busy one back at the hotel room, while getting everything packed and ready to go for my flight back to the USA. After getting my 6am wake-up call, I drug myself from the comfort of bed and got my day started. After the morning routine, I went out to the dining room for breakfast to fill up for the day’s adventure.

Once back at my room, I finished up packing my suitcases and spent some time uploading last night’s photographs to the blog site. With my room being close to the hotel’s wireless router, I was able to pick up the connection with my laptop, allowing me to work from the comfort of my quarters. When that was completed, I burned the remainder of my queued images onto a CD, resulting in a total set of 15 disks for the 83 day excursion.

After loading the car with my two fully packed suitcases and laptop case, I settled my bill of €37.50 with the hotel. The relatively low cost was obviously attributed to a concept I learned in economics called the economy of scale. With the hotel’s high volume to help offset costs, it was possible for them to offer such competitive rates. With the inundation of B&Bs throughout Ireland and very few hotels, this was the only way for them to compete. It seemed to me that the lack for economy of scale and the lack of competition, with regard to some other economic issues in Ireland, were partly to blame for the relatively high prices. But I digress.

Returning my car to Hertz, I was at the terminal in short order ready to check in with my airline. Since I was a business-class passenger with Aer Lingus, termed a premier customer, I was able to use the special check-in line, and was processed in minutes. Hoping to find other ways to kill time, it seemed I had much waiting to do for my flight, having arrived two hours before the scheduled departure.

Trying to do the airport-security dance, which included stripping off all metal, removing my jacket, belt and shoes, while simultaneously removing my laptop from its case, and placing all the items into separate trays, I felt a little hurried by the lesser burdened folks behind me, who were waiting patiently for me to get through the check point. After getting through the process, it took a few minutes to reassemble myself at the other end, but at least I wasn’t holding anyone up. It made me wonder what else could be done to make getting through airport security more cumbersome.

Once in the waiting area, I noticed that it was relatively smaller than most other international airport concourses. Everyone was required to remain in the gym-sized area until called for their flight, as airport security did not allow folks to wait by the gates until it was close to time for boarding. Since it was a small airport and the gates had to be used for both local and international flights, it was probably an operational reason to keep everyone consolidated in the large chamber. Fortunately, everything a passenger could possibly need was found there, to include some US Marines in desert uniform. It appeared they were flying back to the states having just come back from Iraq.

Locating the VAT refund desk in the far corner of the concourse, I remembered to keep my receipts for all the gifts I had bought, but had only some with the required form provided by the retailer, which was used to process the refund. Some of the vendors who sold me their wares did not have the forms to give. I had read in one of my guide books that it was possible to get a refund had you the receipt only, but upon talking to one of the workers at the VAT refund counter, it was learned that the form WAS a requirement and just having the receipt was NOT adequate.

It seemed that the VAT refund program was voluntary for retailers, and if they did not want to give out the forms, it was not their duty to do so. So my word of advice is to ask before you buy, and if they do not provide the form with the sale, you may consider another vendor. As it stood, I had forms for three of my purchases and got cash back on the spot. It paid for my lunch, so it was fine with me.

As I was waiting for my refund, I overheard a woman holding an American passport (Yeah, I looked) complaining to one of the VAT refund clerks about not getting all of the money she paid in VAT for her purchases. Bordering on sounding very rude, she seemed to get belligerent with the polite Irish employee. It made me shake my head, thinking that it was folks like that which gave Americans a bad name. I wanted to tell the misguided woman that if she didn’t like the way people ran their country, then stay home. But alas, something told me to just let it go.

At the far end of the concourse, was the US Customs and Border Protection station. With a little over an hour of time to wait for my flight and having had a quick bite to eat, I thought it would be a good idea to find out the process for getting to my airplane. As I talked to an agent at the entrance to the queue about the requirements, it was learned that I had to process through the station and would be allowed to sit at the gate area at the proper time. It seemed that when the plane was within a couple of hours of departure, they posted the flight number on a sign near the queue to alert people when to begin processing through customs.

On my trip to Ireland, I processed through Irish customs in Dublin, and not at JFK when I had departed from there. It seemed that the process was reversed for USA bound passengers, making them process through US Customs in Ireland before boarding the plane. The station was limited to checking passports, reviewing any required paperwork and a short interview with a border patrol agent, leaving only the luggage inspection to be done at JFK. Later I found out why this was vital to the efficient processing of passengers in New York.

Since my flight number was posted on their sign, it seemed a good idea to go ahead and get the process done so I could relax at the gate and wait for boarding. It also meant getting a jump on the rest of the passengers so I wouldn’t have to spend a lot of time standing in line.

With only two people ahead of me in the queue, I was at the desk of an agent in less than 10 minutes. After reviewing the declaration statement I had filled out prior to getting in line, he checked my passport by swiping it through a reader and looked at a computer monitor as he conducted his interview. After about 5 minutes of questioning, he seemed satisfied I was in order, and stamped my passport while directing me to go wait in the gate area.

Sitting by an electrical plug-in, I was checking my email with the airport’s free wireless service while keeping my laptop’s battery charged. It was my plan to use the battery power to work on yesterday’s journal entry on the airplane, having not had the time last night to do a draft. Within a few minutes, an airport tug was approaching the gate with an Airbus 330 in tow, which was named the St Maeve. It appeared that our plane had arrived and was pulling up to the gate for servicing before the transatlantic flight.

After having some employees do a quick check of carry on bags, we were assembled near the jetway door in preparation for boarding. After years of being a coach passenger, it was nice to be at the head of the pack for once as a business-class passenger. Soon we were allowed through, with the plane ready to fly.

As I boarded the plane, a flight attendant met me at the door and checked my boarding pass to determine which way to direct me. Seeing I was a premier customer and not some coach bum, as I may have seemed in my jeans and dark blue T-shirt, she put on a smile and cheerfully showed me the way to business-class section. It was amazing how the word “premier” changed the attitudes of Aer Lingus employees.

Upon finding my luxuriously spacious seat, I noticed only a couple of people in the business-class section. Supposing they had yet to board, I took the opportunity to get comfortable in my new space, which would be my place for the next six and a half hours.

It was not long until I heard the head flight attendant come over the intercom to announce the closing of doors and direct the attendants to do a cross check. Looking up at the 24 premier seats in the business-class section, I noticed only six of them being occupied. It appeared that the news of the pilots’ strike motivated the passengers assigned to this flight to depart ahead of schedule, leaving all the extra seats.

With the other business class passengers sitting on the right side of the plane and none in the middle or left section, it looked like I had the whole plane to myself. Feeling like Donald Trump, I kicked back in anticipation of the spoiling I would receive from the three flight attendants assigned to the business-class section.

During the flight, I managed to get my draft completed before the computer started crying for a plug-in, and I spent the remainder of the trip enjoying the above-average amount of attention from the flight attendants. There was always a full glass of water and a hot cup of tea by my side, and we were fed both a gourmet meal after departure, and served a light meal before landing in JFK. In between we were given treats to keep our needs met, abating the chance of us ever being hungry or thirsty.

We touched down at JFK around 4pm local time and managed to taxi directly to our gate, despite the busy traffic at the massive airport. As we were disembarking, I gave my flight attendants a “Slan go foill” which must have caught them off guard, as I didn’t hear a “Slan” in return until I was on my way out the door.

As we filed into the concourse, and down a hall to the immigration checkpoint, a representative was standing at the end of the corridor and directed us passed the inspectors, telling us to retrieve our luggage at carousel six. Since we had cleared the administrative portion of customs in Shannon, it was not required of us to go through the same process in JFK. I was glad too, as the mass of people waiting to be interviewed made me think had we not taken care of it in Ireland, it would have been some time until we were out of the holding area.

Once at the baggage claim area, a buzzer was heard and the carousel began to move. It did not take long for my bags to appear and I was happily off to the next station. It reminded me how I felt when arriving in Shannon, and my luggage did not. It was so disheartening to be the last passenger at baggage claim and watch a carousel revolve in circles void of your luggage.

At the far end of the baggage claim were the inspectors who cleared the declaration paperwork and determined if further screening was needed. Having answered “yes” to one of the questions, which was whether or not I had been on a farm, I was directed to another inspector to clarify the issue and receive further processing.

When the border agent asked me if I had touched any livestock or had walked around their living area, I told him that I did not, adding that the smell was bad enough from the road. Of course, I had forgotten about the time I had been in a sheep pasture while exploring some abandoned castles. After he inspected the bottom of my shoes, he signed me off and directed me to the exit which lead to the terminal.

Once in the busy terminal, I found the loading dock for the Air Train and boarded it to head to the area that housed the car rental services, which was Building C. The train eventually stopped at my destination after it made its loop around the many terminals at JFK airport. It sure beat walking, especially with my considerable load of luggage.

Disembarking the train, I found the Hertz desk at the ground floor and must have had the luck of the Irish, as there was no line in front of me. Despite some difficulty with my inadvertently canceled reservation, she got it in order and I was in my rental car by 5pm. It took me an hour from the time the plane touched down until I was seated in my dark blue Toyota Corolla. Now that’s what I call efficiency, with perhaps a little luck to boot!

After taking a moment to get acquainted with sitting on the left side again and conditioning my mind to drive on the right, I started my zippy little car with automatic-shift and headed out to find a hotel room for the night. With it being 13 hours since I arose in Limerick, I did not think it would be fun to fight rush hour traffic in New York with such a low energy level. It seemed a wise idea to spend the night in New York and tackle the beast tomorrow.

Once I checked into my good ole American Best Western hotel room with hardwired internet access, I got back on the streets to get some US greenbacks, buy some red licorice and get back to my room so I could order a New York styled pizza. It was good to be back in the USA.

Of course, I still had two more legs left in my trip, which included heading to Baltimore tomorrow and then flying back to Seattle on Monday. It was too early to close the log, promising at least two more entries until the deal was done. When my pot of gold coins is safely in my house, my Ireland trip will be over.