10 Oct – Lisbon

We made it. Some might consider it a bit of a miracle that we’re not still standing like mannequins, with our mouths agape, staring at the empty United Airlines gate A108 while our shoulda-been-on-it flight is making its way to Portugal sans us.

Our flight from Cleveland landed in Newark with just 20 minutes of “projected transport time” for us to reach our connection’s gate. Compounding the tight schedule was the fact that we deplaned at Terminal C…and our connecting flight was at Terminal A, halfway (that may be an exaggeration) across the airfield. Even the app “doubted” we had time enough to cover the necessary ground.

But Nancy had done some recon upon her arrival in Newark on the earlier flight and had texted us very specific instructions on the fastest route to our gate from C to A. This was confirmed and reconfirmed by the United app and numerous optimistic United employees as they became aware of our “flight plight.” (Peg’s years of Public Broadcasting on- and off-air pleading proved to be a very useful skill in garnering sympathy and support.)

In short, on arrival, we “gently” hustled our way through our fellow deplaning passengers (Thanks everyone!) and bolted for the terminal C bus. We entered. The doors closed. And off we went. Once there, Rob took the lead–all his gym work was paying off–followed by Peg and I, “running” (and I use that term loosely) like the 70-year olds we are.

We reached the gate. Nancy was standing there and we were quickly processed and allowed to board. Whew!

BUT…!

Because we had missed the airlines’ arbitrary “no-show” window, we had lost the premium seats we had purchased, were put on stand-by, and were reassigned the only three coach seats available…all middle seats!

And I had the singular distinction of being assigned the 2nd last seat on the whole plane: middle seat 60E! Locating my new seat, it was only the xanax flowing through my bloodstream that prevented me from having an all-out panic attack there in the aisle. But, the gods must have been with me because the woman occupying the aisle seat, 60F, offered to switch since she was traveling with her husband in 60D. So, after waiting for 14 months for a trip I’ve been dreaming about for more than 6 years, I was finally en route to Portugal in the very last passenger seat of our Boeing 787. (Fortunately, Boeing provided a surprising amount of leg room in the cheap seats. Another unexpected godsend.)

Upon arrival, I experienced something I’ve never experienced before: as the very last passenger on the flight, I was the very last passenger to actually walk out the cabin door upon arrival. I felt none of the anxious rush to exit. Rather, I was surprisingly calm knowing there was no urgency. (I’d have to wait for others just to reach my stowed backpack anyway.) And, most important of all, all four of us had made it despite the many obstacles thrown our way.

(Of course, I was a bit miffed when, as I walked past the last few rows to the exit, I was held up by the one still-seated passenger who chose the moment I reached him to stand up in front of me, retrieve his suitcase from the overhead bins and head for the door. Most vexing was that he was the guy who’d been upgraded to my original, extra-cost, extra-legroom seat on the flight!)

Our long day continued:

Ubering to the hotel, we check in. Our room is available. The girls aren’t so lucky.

After depositing all of the luggage in our room, we freshened up a bit before heading out to find someplace local to eat. We decided to have lunch at the Picasso Cafateria just down the street from the hotel.

With lunch handled, we returned to the hotel where naps were taken by all (once the girls are assigned rooms). Then, at that universal Happy Hour of 5 PM, we all headed up for cocktails at the hotel’s rooftop bar.

Dinner at Zazah

Our last activity before drawing this exhausting day to a close was–whaddya think?–dinner! We found a charming little restaurant, Zazah, which served foods to be shared. And share we did until stuffed.