Mr Barker goes to Washington Pt 1

(A prologue: during this report I will often make comparisons to me experiences at science fiction conventions or the last time I was in Washington. To save time, these will be abbreviated to “CTASFC”
(compared to a science fiction convention) and WIWTTYA (when I was there
twenty years ago)

Whoever said “Getting there is half the fun” never had to get up at three on a freezing cold Scottish November morning after two hours sleep, having been up since seven the previous day clearing up loose ends so they could get away on vacation. However, after a brief, refreshing shower, I kissed Mrs Jim and pet dog byebye, promised to to acquire TOO many books, and jumped into taxi to start The Great Adventure.

When we arrived at Edinburgh airport at four, there were already several other lost souls wandering about like extras in a zombie movie. Nothing was open , no flight desks, no newstands, not even a coffee stall. After an hour of baleful people watching, eventually the Air France desk opened up, and I was checked through, allowed to go upstairs to the waiting lounge (and coffee!!) I browsed the duty free and settled on a bottle of Heather Cream Whisky liqueur, not being able to drink straight whisky since The Unfortunate Office Party of 1978.

At six thirty our flight was called and we were bussed across to the plane. A fellow passenger said to me ‘Have you ever flown on Air France before?’ When I said “No” he sucked in his breath and said “Make sure you have a spare elastic band...” To be sure, the plane was small but it took off on time and got us to Paris (flying over my home town on the way there... they could have picked me up) safely. I transferred to the departure lounge at Paris airport, which was like a huge glassed Nissan hut where I had to kill four hours till my flight to Washington. I had brought a copy of “Seven Up” to read but i couldn’t concentrate and people-watched for a while, trying to guess nationalities, then went exploring the shops and discovered i couldn’t buy anything because I had no Francs. I had REALLY wanted to find a French copy of “Blindsighted” to bring with me, but there were none. So I went back and people watched some more until it was time to board the plane.

For the first time there was some evidence of airport security. At Edinburgh and on arriving at Paris, my shoulder bag had gone through the X ray machine but it was searched pretty thoroughly before getting on the plane. In addition to the liqueur i had brought some Scottish Shortbread and candy. I had been going to bring some sherbert but i thought it might not be a good idea to try a bringing white powder into Washington. the same with meat products - so no haggis. RAMmers would have to make do with Soor Plooms, Barley sugar and clove rock.

I’d been given an aisle seat just above the wing which gave me plenty of room to stretch my legs. I was sharing my row with a French man and woman, both of whom ignored me throughout the trip and did as much damage to the free champagne and red wine as possible. Happily I discovered the individual screen on my seat which showed a continuous movie programme, and whiled the flight away watching “Spy Kids”, bits of Moulin Rouge and “Cats and Dogs”. There was also a neat channel which showed you the progress of the flight, telling you the altitude, the distance covered and to go, and local time. I tried sleeping, but even with the complimentary ear plugs and face mask, I found this impossible so that when we arrived in Washington I had been going for about seventeen hours. My voice had also disappeared somewhere over the Atlantic (which was to cause no end of fun in the days to come...)

On touchdown we boarded a vehicle last seen doing a walk on on Thunderbirds, which transported us to US Customs and Immigration. I had heard tales of how strict they were and how, if you hadn’t filed the forms in correctly, you were made to go to the back of the queue and do it again. While standing in the queue I was scanning for Brigid, who had volunteered to pick me up but I couldn’t spot any likely candidates.

I got through the Customs and Immigration with only an X ray search again, went through to the carrousel, picked up the rest of my luggage and stepped through into America.

In the lobby I spotted a dark haired girl, waving a piece of paper saying “JIM BARKER” so I waved back.

‘Hi, Jim” she said. “I’m Brigid. Welcome to America.”

“........................” I replied

“Lost your voice on the flight, huh?”

“........................” I replied

“Okay, my cars out here. Let’s get to the hotel”

I had left a freezing Scotland wearing a longsleeved jumper and heavy jacket. By the time we got to Brigids car, thrundling a heavy suitcase behind me. I was a red, sweaty incoherent wreck. I know how to make a good first impression and confirmed this by trying to get into the car on the drivers side. Brigid tsk-tsked at me. “Passengers get in on THIS side, over here...” I got in the car and we set off. Brigid had printed out instructions on how to get to the Hyatt and seemed to know where she was going. Which was just as well, because i was spending all my time rubbernecking....

“oooh lookat all those cars on the wrong side of the road and lookat all those big tall buildings and lookat that bloody big sixteenwheeler truck and lookat those four lanes of traffic trying to squeeze into two...

It was getting dark as we drove and in the distance Brigid pointed out an illuminated Capitol Building and Washington monument. It was settling in that i had actually arrived. Bloody hell. I was getting more and more excited!! Our route took us past The Pentagon though not the side which had been hit. I had always imagined the building to be by itself in the middle of vast lawns and was surprised to see how it was surrounded by other buildings...

We found the Hyatt and I unloaded my luggage so they could valet park Brigid’s car. The Bouchercon registration desk was just inside the door so we decided to get that out of the way. We were each given books, bags containing more books and a tote bag with even MORE books. Only been here five minutes and already I had acquired what seemed like twenty books. arranging to meet later in the bar, Brigid left to dump hers in the car. Laden down with cases, bags, books and coats I teetered to the reception desk and signed in. A porter materialised with a trolley for my luggage and we went up to the room.

Which was on the twelfth floor and was a perfectly nice room except that it only had one double bed. Figuring that John Galt, the unfortunate soul sharing with me, might not appreciate this I phoned the desk and, after much swearing and muttering on the desk clerk’s part, was switched to a twin room on the eighteenth floor.

By this time it was about 7pm. I was hot, sweaty, exhausted and had been on the go for about twenty hours. The sensible thing to do would be to have an early night. Naturally, I ad a shower a change of clothes and went looking for fun. I found Brigid in the bar, being chatted up. I took the stool next to her, ordered a beer and sat back to examine the surroundings. The Hyatt lobby was big and airy and featured three glass sided lifts (sorry, elevators...) at the rear. I watched for a while to see if Sly or Arnie would appear, riding on the top of one of them but neither did so I people watched again. Over by the hotel entrance, i noticed that a group seemed to have staked out a couch and surrounding area as there territory. I was sure that I recognised a few of the faces so I wandered over.

“Hello” I croaked. “Any of you people from RAM?”

(to be continued)