DaveNCL

Steady on now

LTN Phobia

This thread has been moved to Trip Report forum from the BA forum as it is a trip report.

Thanks for your understanding and cooperation.

LTN Phobia
Moderator: BA forum

csutter

I have successfully made it to Newark, and passed US immigration in record time (four minutes!) only to be thwarted by NJ Transit. The next train will be in UNKNOWN minutes due to DELAYS. They seem to have taken passenger information lessons from TfL

Normal posting will resume once I arrive at my hotel.

Party pooper

csutter

BA763 OSL-LHR
A320 G-EUYE, Club Europe, Seat 1F


It started off so well - served by a lovely lady at the checkin desk, asked for my BPs printed and strangely enough had to show my credit card for the first time ever. No priority security at OSL ("BA doesn't pay for it") but I was literally the only person in the whole security area anyway so breezed through in no time. Again, staff were friendliness and charm personified, smiles all round, lots of "please Sir" and "thank you Sir". The terminal is beautifully designed and well laid out, with the exception of the usual forced Duty Free shop after security but that was easy enough to box my way through. I say fire the bloody jobsworth lot that runs HAL and outsource it to our Norwegian overlords.


The OSL lounge is right after Duty Free, easy to find and pretty decent for a third party lounge. Again beautifully designed and decidedly Scandinavian - lots of wood and muted colours. Food and beverage selection is average, not better and not worse than other outstations I've visited. That said, they do have crispbread, and a water tap that almost looks like it dispenses beer!


I could see my plane land in the pouring rain from the comfort of the lounge and cringed just a little when I saw it taxi to a remote stand. Priority boarding of course consisted of being first on one of two huge bendy buses and then waiting for the other 70 pax to trickle in, followed by a complimentary five minute scenic trip down the side of the terminal in the wrong direction and back again. In what must be some sort of curious Nordic prank, we then boarded at glacial pace via open airstairs while a covered set of stairs was parked right next to our plane.


On board, service was friendly but otherwise rather disappointing. Having to wait over 35 minutes after wheels up on a 1:45 flight to get served drinks is decidedly "meh" - I'm usually on my second set of drinks by then! The CSM was trying to sell everyone the champagne but surprisingly enough nobody was keen on Monopoo. And the "brunch"... Where do I start. An atrocious, tasteless tomato pesto panini, a fruit platter with six (6) pieces of fruit including the obligatory lonely grape (I ate it first to put an end to its misery) and a croissant so limp and soggy they would declare a day of national mourning in France if they found out. If I hadn't had breakfast at the hotel and had a long day in London ahead I would be raging, luckily I did and had a few hours in the comforts of Galleries First to look forward to so hey ho!


Other than that, I had a comfortable flight with nobody in 1D so plenty of room to spread out. Contemplated asking the crew to make up my bed in 1D but decided against it in case they don't get the joke to avoid awkward blank stares. We landed in Heathrow on time and I made my way to transfer security.

csutter

A leisurely afternoon at LHR

I was originally planning to go back into London and have lunch with my OH, but she started a new job today so that wasn't going to happen. Having decided I might as well stay at Heathrow and avail myself of the local facilities, I made my way to flight connections where I discovered the largest queue this side of a Justin Bieber concert.

Had I not been eligible for Fast Track, I am certain I would still be standing there, quietly cursing the UK and considering flying via Frankfurt the next time. Perhaps after a few months in the queue I would have founded a basic agrarian society with the others and started growing a small vegetable patch in the mould on the ceiling tiles. A few years down the line (if you pardon the pun), we could start trading with the people of South Security. So many possibilities.

We'll never find out because as it happens, I am eligible for Fast Track so a nice man opened up a tensabarrier for me and I proceeded past the almighty queue under the angry stares of a million people. A friendly lady then checked my passport followed by an odd conversation which saw me turning into a DYKWIN (Do You Know Who I'm NOT):

Agent: Sir, do you know how to get to the Concorde Room?
Me: ??!
Agent: It's our lounge for passengers in First class, Sir.
Me: I know that, but I'm flying Club World...
Agent: Yes Sir, but you just arrived in First.
Me: ?????!!!!!
Agent: When you arrive in First, you also get access to the CCR.
Me: Yeah I know, but I've just come from Oslo...
Agent: *stares blankly*
Me: There's no First on short haul...
Agent: *stares blankly*

I ended up bidding her farewell and thinking if I should try my luck at the CCR. North Security again was an unholy mess, and all in all it took me just over 15 minutes to get through. Not terrible by any means, but considering I'm usually through South Security in under three minutes coming from landside not that great either.

I decided against blagging my way into the CCR, humble as I am (and not wanting to get turned away and do the walk of shame back to the other side), and in the true old fashion of no good deed goes unpunished arrived at the Flounge where after a quick flash of my BP the lounge dragon shakes her head and says "The Club lounge is upstairs". Turns out the &@$%#ing BA app has lost my status and put me down as Blue (but with the correct EC number). This, children, is when it pays off to have your physical EC card with you to spare you the arguing at reception. "But I swear I'm Gold", you say. People start looking. Children start crying. And so on.


Finally in the sanctuary (no chimpanzees this time, just sloths) of the Flounge, I settle down on the terrace with a cheesecake and catch up on some reading. I love the terrace, but it desperately needs lots of power outlets. Those iThings don't run off solar! I pop over to Elemis and make a reservation for a neck and shoulder massage.


Feeling luckier than yesterday, I eventually head to the restaurant area and lo and behold, I am served within a minute. To break the suspense, the pulled pork wrap is okay, and the vanilla ice cream not too shabby either. Just wish we still had the short-lived treacle tart!

Three hours later it's time for my massage appointment and I head over to the Elemis area where I fill in a massive health and safety form (in case I forget which country I'm in, what with all that travelling) and sit down for a brief wait. My therapist invites me in to a treatment pod and I make myself comfortable in the massage chair - while he works on my head, neck and shoulders, the chair (set to MAX strength of course) hammers away at my back in an aggressive but quite pleasant manner. It's over way too soon.

Another brief foray into the Flounge where I repeat the "No I'm not stupid I really am Gold" dance with the new dragon shift and find out my flight is departing from the B gates. In true FT fashion, this obviously calls for a trip down the magic corridor.


The magic walkway is deserted and dead quiet save for the incessant hum from the travellators running at reduced speed, perpetually doomed to wait for someone to step on them (not me, I'm young and active). I do encounter one person coming the other way halfway down the corridor - we exchange knowing nods and proceed to go our separate ways.


I quicky head up to the B lounge, which was surprisingly busy and devoid of any food. When the hot food was brought out, the masses descended on the buffet like there was no tomorrow. As Penny Carter would say: "Savages!" As much as we complain about food in the Flounge, always remember that the folks in the Club lounges have it even worse...

One last quick call to the OH and it's time to head to the gate...

johnnie69

Subscribed ^
Entertaining read, keep it coming

BA5E

Loving every minute of this TR, your putting together words and phrases are great and such great wit goes with it as well, many times I have had to put my hand to my mouth to stop the laughter becoming too much at work. Looking forward to the next stage^ Oh have not even seen a glass of bubbles on the photos yet, what is happening, this is not true FT message

csutter

BA187 LHR-EWR
B787 G-ZBJA, Club World, Seat 3A

What a plane. This aircraft is the Miranda Kerr of aviation. When I first saw it through the windows of T5B my heart skipped a beat. It's just that gorgeous. Call me a Boeing fanboy all you like, but consider a certain other recent addition to the BA fleet which looks like it belongs in the "whale" exhibit at a local aquarium instead of LHR, and tell me those smooth lines, that swept wing, those gorgeous engines don't keep you up at night. Okay, okay, I'll stop now!


I timed my exit from the T5B lounge perfectly to take some pictures of G-ZJBA (the first 787 to be delivered to BA) and catch the first boarding announcement. Again, priority boarding was rigorously enforced and I was on the plane in no time. Received a very warm welcome at the door, my coat was hung moments after I sat down and a few minutes later I received a lovely glass of bubbles (and was offered a newspaper, which I declined).


Seat 3A turned out to be a very good choice indeed, with nice and easy access and nobody to step over, and all the privacy I could possibly ask for once the divider was up - which I deployed very quickly after the safety demo given how grumpy the chap in 3B looked! The colour scheme looks much nicer than on the "older" NGCW variation, but the seat has the same two annoyances as on the rest of the fleet: very little storage space (only the drawer at your feet) and incredibly flimsy armrests in seat mode. That said, I was disappointed to find the not even one year old seat full of scratches and peeling paint. Does anyone have Scratch Lady's phone number? And does she have the authority to dispense Avios (I think 200,000 will do just fine for this major inconvenience thank you very much)?


Takeoff was powerful but eerily quiet, and I waved at Concorde as we taxied onto 27L, as usual feeling regret at never having had the chance to travel on it. That said, I am immensely lucky to have built up a lifestyle where I get to frequently experience premium travel so I certainly shouldn't be complaining!


The CSD - a most lovely lady - came around taking drinks orders the moment the seatbelt sign went off. These were delivered almost instantly, marking a nice contrast to my CE flight the same morning. Curiously enough, when a crew member came around to take my dinner order, he started by apologising that they had run out of the pasta because so many others had ordered it already. I didn't mind, my first choice was available (beef, I like the odd adventure), but as a knowledgable FTer I thought food orders in CW were taken by status? I can't imagine the whole cabin being full of GGLs and high value Golds, plus I saw the crew pass through the cabin front to back...


The meal service was a bit drawn out but I didn't mind too much. What was a bit annoying was that the three different crew members serving me all had a different way of handling the old divider issue - one would squeeze through the gap between 3B and the bulkhead (great), another one would lower the divider and put it back up right after handing me something (also good) and the last one would lower the divider and leave it down (meh).


The starter was a passable watermelon and feta cheese salad. The other choice was a salmon of some sort. Following this was unsurprisingly the culinary disappointment of the flight - but admit it, you already mumbled to yourself "Why the hell did he go for the beef?" a few paragraphs up. The steak was, while not inedible, absolutely awful. Grey in colour and simultaneously soft and leathery in consistency, it was like eating a jellyfish. Plus it came swimming in some tasteless Bearnaise sauce that instantly turned watery from the beef juices, and some green vegetables of a provenance the wrong side of eccentric. Mark Tassioli, I will find you and make you pay for what you have done to that poor cow.


That said, what the beef was lacking the service more than made up for. My glass never went empty with a new drink miraculously appearing the second the old one reached dangerously low levels. And as if to apologise for the beef, a delicious cheesecake materialised in front of me, together with some coffee and Baileys. Now we're talking!


While happily devouring my dessert, I notice a commotion in the galley passageway. The CSD and another crew member are standing there grinning, pointing, shaking their heads and whispering - not wanting to be left out, I catch their eyes and give them a quizzical look. After a lot of mouthing and improvised sign language, it transpires that my grumpy friend in 3B is watching the kind of multimedia entertainment on his iPad that is best enjoyed in the privacy of your own four walls, not a CW aisle seat. I proceed to almost choke on my Baileys and decide to peruse the IFE for some entertainment of my own (not necessarily that kind).


Being a huge plane geek (have you noticed yet?) and an aspiring pilot (if only of the private variety in the short term) I was thrilled to hit solid gold on the "BA TV" section of the IFE. Three incredibly interesting and historically valuable short films, especially one that followed a young Second Officer on his first flight on the VC10 in the 70s ^ ^ ^

The lights were eventually dimmed, as were the windows, and my fellow travellers happily proceeded to sleep their way into jet lag hell. I decided now was as good a time as any to take a nap, set my alarm for half an hour later and put my seat into bed mode... BAM. My footrest came crashing to Earth the second I closed my eyes. So much for them being less flimsy than the previous model! The errant latch received a serious talking to from the CSD and eventually accepted its fate of having to stay in its intended position.


An hour out, the cabin lights came back on the 110% setting and we were served something vaguely resembling the afternoon tea on short haul CE services, just a) without scones and b) featuring even worse plastic-packed sandwiches. The cabin was then prepared for landing and we meandered our way down the busy NY airspace, with some absolutely spectacular views of Manhattan on the final approach to Newark's runway 22L.


We touched down nice and firmly and the two Trent 1000s spooled up one last time, sending shivers down my spine. Almost as nice as the sound of the GE90 on the 777-300ER. Now let me go find my pocket calculator and put my suspenders back on...

I intended to visit the flight deck but dreaded being last in line for immigration, also I ran into the captain when visiting the forward lav during the flight and he didn't seem incredibly friendly (or maybe I just caught him off guard). The door remained firmly closed even when we got to the gate so I figured I'll leave the flight deck visit for next time when I get a more sociable flight crew

Now comes the most incredible part of this trip: getting from the aircraft door to the AirTrain took me less than 15 minutes. I was through immigration in absolutely no time (about a four minute wait), had a nice chat with a very friendly and funny immigration officer who joked about my choice of hotel, expressed surprise at my Austrian passport (what with my wonderful British accent) and exchanged a few words with me in German which it turns out he had studied previously. Newark Airport, at least the arrivals part, sports a distinctively 70s design which I quite like as it reminds me of my many childhood trips to the US - granted that was in the 90s but my point stands.


Unfortunately my luck ran out when I arrived at the airport train station holding my fancy new $12.50 NJ Transit ticket. There was a train departing the platform just as I ran down the stairs and the next train was severely delayed due to a fire on the tracks earlier in the day. I ended up waiting almost an hour for the next train and arriving at NY Penn Station slightly grumpy and very tired indeed, but thankfully it was only a brief walk to my hotel.

billinghamn

Fab writing - very interesting read. Just a shame your thread has been moved from the BA forum.

mkjr

yes. agree...given the plethora of OT stuff that resides there without movement???

the snack before landing in a plastic wrap...wow. that is really poor.

csutter

Quick update: The last two days have been incredibly intense in terms of travelling, so I'm a little bit behind on posting. I'll have more for you tonight.

And yes, I survived the Air Canada flight! Thanks flr the kind words and for following!

csutter

Part 6: Doubletree by Hilton New York Times Square South

I arrive at the hotel around 11pm and am very warmly welcomed at reception. It's a Hotels.com reservation but I try my luck anyway with my HHonors Gold card and receive a city view room on one of the highest floors and a code for the WiFi.


The room is a bit dated but comfortable and has a recently refurbished bathroom, classic Hilton material really. I crash into bed and it's lights out for the night.


I skip breakfast the next morning as I'm not hungry and decide to head into town instead. This is probably the shortest part of this TR - very happy with my stay, great service and incredibly friendly front desk staff. Location is immensely convenient for Penn Station which has the NJ transit to EWR and the A train to JFK. No idea about LGA but then again who flies from there anyway

csutter

Part 7: A day in New York

I spend the morning just ambling around midtown, relaxing in Central Park and slaloming around slow tourists on Fifth Avenue.


I head back towards the hotel around lunch, grabbing a fabulous "Chicken Inferno" bagel from Best Bagels on 35th St (delicious!) on the way, plus some watery American coffee substitute to wash it down.


I check out, leave my bags with the concierge and grab another cheeky chocolate cookie. Decide to walk around the High Line as I've never been there before - it's packed with people but still good fun. What an amazing idea to turn a disused railway track into a park.


Leaving the High Line, I make my way to the Hudson and am shocked to find there is no queue whatsoever at the Intrepid museum - last time I was around, the queues almost went halfway back to Battery Park! Obviously I had to get in, paid a hair under $50 for a ticket and a tour of Concorde, but let's be honest I would have sold my right arm for that.


G-BOAD isn't just any Concorde of course, she's a record holder as our fantastic tour guide Chris never tires to explain. The tour is one part fascinating, two parts depressing - hard to believe what a huge step backwards her retirement was for aviation. We take lots of pictures (pilots' seats are off limits to sit in due to danger of damage but the jump seat and forward passenger cabin are all open for business. Get an Australian couple to take some pictures of me in my standard front row starboard window seat and dream for a while.


Finally and with a heavy heart I leave the museum and head back to the hotel. Forget I'm north of it so head left on 8th Avenue. Do a double take when a bunch of neurons up there start wondering why the street numbers keep going up.


Pick up my bags from the hotel and head for the A train to JFK/Howard Beach station. Now I like to think I can handle any level of public transport complexity but the NY Subway catches me out every time in a way that to a local I might seem like the kind of directionally challenged idiot who'd manage to get lost on London's Waterloo & City line.


Finally manage to divine that I am on the wrong platform ("Uptown" and "Downtown" sound rather too similar if you ask me) and catch a train only for it to be held due to the train ahead "requiring police assistance". You don't get that very often in London. Total time on the train to Howard Beach was around an hour.

csutter

AA2314 JFK-BOS
B737 N834NN, First, Seat 3A

Editor's Note: This post was written in frustration and tiredness pretty much as it happened. Having slept over it, in retrospect it probably wasn't quite as bad. I have since been on two fantastic AA flights and in two great Admirals Clubs with immensely friendly and helpful staff.

I apologise in advance if this part of my TR comes across as overly negative. It took an immense amount of restraint not to launch into a foul-mouthed rant about this leg of my journey, because a) it was piss poor, b) it was piss poor and c) I'm slightly sleep deprived. But I digress, you're here to read rants not meta-rants.

The Airtrain is a glorified airport monorail that costs a whooping $5 to use if you board it at Howard Beach station. It runs every ten minutes, meaning that on average you'll wait nine minutes for your train, and serves American's T8 dead last.


After the subway and the Airtrain shuffle, this means I arrive at the premium checkin area at T8 only 90 minutes before my scheduled departure. I am one of three people in the whole area and it takes me eight minutes for me to get called forward. The mathematics behind this are left as an excercise for the reader. My bag is tagged (no priority label in sight) and a souvenir BP printed.

I make my way to the priority security queue which was really just a front to join the same queue from a different side while making you feel all posh and important because you walked past a sign with the word "priority" on it. Take my shoes off, go stand in the microwave, scrap my earthly belongings back out of the trays and shimmy to the lifts to the Flagship Lounge.


I am welcomed warmly at the Admirals Club reception, where after scanning my BP, scanning it again, swiping my BAEC card, swiping it again, puzzled looks, typing in the card number, typing it in again, and then typing out the first half of Tolstoy's "War and Peace" I am presented with a key card to the Flagship Lounge. Quite why that is necessary given there is someone standing in front of it anyway, plus another reception desk inside, I do not know.

Once inside the Flagship Lounge, I am interrogated by the angry dragon as to what on earth makes me think I am entitled to be there. It is not made easier by her being on the phone at the same time, and she bellows at the poor sod on the other end of the call while shaking her head, mouthing "do-mes-tic" and making hand gestures to the effect of "get the hell out of here before I set your a$$ on fire". I stand my ground, miming the internationally recognised hand symbols for "I am perfectly entitled to be here thank you very much" and gesture at the "ONEWORLD EMERALD" writing on my mobile BP. The dragon grunts "oh, you're a partner Emerald, fine then", rolls her eyes, and returns to her phone conversation.


I walk to the far end of the lounge, which goven its immense size takes the better part of four seconds, and look around in disbelief. This is meant to be the US's largest carrier's flagship first class lounge at one of the most important major world airports. It is no more pleasant, larger, or better equipped than a decent European BA outstation lounge like the Galleries in Brussels, with food options that make the Heathrow Galleries Club (!) lounges look like culinary paradise. The Concorde Room at T7 is already fantastic in its own right, but this place makes it look like a Michellin-starred 20-star luxury hotel and restaurant.


I have some pecan-crusted pork (okay) and lemon&chive sweet potato mash (what on earth?!). Add some chili for good measure (palatable). Head for the computers to print tomorrow's Air Canada boarding pass, eh. Decide the sucking inherent in this place is so deep and malignant it needs immediate amputation and wander back out into the terminal for a walk before my flight before depression gets the better of me.


I briefly consider buying some camping chairs and setting up my own lounge in the wide open space around the lifts. Call it the "csutter Club", sell access for $30 and make people bring their own food and drinks. Might just work. I take the lift back down to departures and admire the only redeeming feature of this entire setup: a lift button with the Admirals Club logo that lights up when you press the relevant floor button. Now that's awesome!


By the time I get to the gate, boarding is about to start and I am once again third to board the plane (this is really becoming a bit of a tradition) and settle into my front row seat 3A. Maybe they think higher numbers sound better, or maybe they're just really bad at mathematics, I guess I will never find out.


The seat is comfortable enough for the short flight, although the headrest is fixed and positioned way too low for me to, well, rest my head (unless it has a deeper purpose in life that I am unaware of). This may make me seem like a BA apologist but I fail to see how these seats are supposedly sooooo much better than European short haul seating with a blocked middle seat. In fact, I dare say you're probably sitting closer to your neighbour on AA - a non-issue on this flight as my whole row was empty.

On the epic taxi to runway 13R (this is JFK after all) I read one of my favourite books on my phone and start laughing so hard I segue into a coughing fit. The man behind me shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe he thinks I have Ebola. Think about coughing some more in his general direction for fun and giggles, but decide not to lest they get the CDC to meet me at the gate in Boston. Wouldn't bode well for future readmission into the USofA.


After takeoff, "drinks" "service" begins. Who knows what they have and I'm absolutely not in the mood for a game of "we don't have X, Sir" so I just ask for some water. The guy behind me receives nuts with his drink which I didn't. Maybe nuts are counterindicated for Ebola or the FA just hates me.

We land in BOS nice and early (yay!) after a short 40 minutes in the air and slam down so hard that 5F's phone becomes airborne, comes flying through the cabin, and lands at my feet. Turns out 5F is a deadheading AA Captain and we shrug in unison. Consider wagering him $5 to ask the pilots if we were shot down.


I make my way off the plane to baggage reclaim. There, I am rewarded for checking in my bag by having to wait 15 minutes for it to arrive dead last, and I crawl off to Terminal A for the walkway to the Hilton Boston Airport.

I will write about this hotel stay a bit later on in the TR as this is the first of two nights.

AeroWesty

Excellent report so far. I've subscribed so I can easily find future updates!