And so, only a bit behind our scheduled take-off time, we’re off the ground and defying gravity precisely in the way man was never meant to do without the development of the æronautical sciences. Just me, the flight crew, and the combined Paralympic teams of South Africa, Norway, and Poland. While it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to demonstrate what makes these athletes stronger, better, and faster than us while on the plane, it’s still enough to make one feel just a tad inferior when looking at one’s girl-like wrists.

The last few hours were spent packing the things deemed “cannot do without” such as socks, underwear, shirts, and the fez. Also gifties for people I’ll be seeing who deserve said things. Chances are that they’ll not appreciate it… but I’ll feel better for having provided something a little extra for them. Total baggage weight came in just under the allowance, so all is well.

On the way to the airport, Jennifer and I had a spirited discussion about current events (proposal has been made for municipal elections to provide voting power to businesses, in addition to citizens. Our considered opinion: “that’s dumb! They’d be dumb to do that! That’d be, like, DUMB!” So we got that sorted easily, as well as the typical last-minute stuff, like what to do when the books arrive from the printers while I’m gone and so on.

Air Canada has power at the seats! I can re-charge my lap-top while they fly! Hooray!

Also fun is the touch-screen entertainment system… although mine froze-up playing Kate Bush’s album The Kick Inside. I’m not blaming her, though.

Some sort of dinner suddenly arrives, and smells like spicy… thing. In the end it’s Chicken Penne in a tomato sauce of decent taste, as well as a corn / haricots vert / julienne carrot vinaigrette salad, and a chocolate brownie with chocolate poured upon it. Granted the bread-like object that came with dinner could have used some sort of leavening agent; while not actually matzo, it could hardly have been called ‘a light, fluffy, Euro-inspired piece of dinner bread’. How one has the gall to be so picky at 35,000 feet whilst travelling at 569 MPH though air at a temperature of –70.6°F is beyond me, but this is something one does after spending what seems to be too much money for bad food.

How is it that the little plastic knife disappears as soon as it’s placed on the tray? It’s probably around my ankle somewhere, about to stab itself into my leg when I attempt to get comfy under the little blue blankey they give you (wrapped in plastic for you to stay awake wondering what to do with the crinkly stuff for hours until we land!). If you have the answer for these things, fortunes will be lain at your feet! Or, more probably, you’ll get a nice, firm, handshake of thanks.

Louis C.K. has it right, however: when you leave the ground, you should turn to someone and yell: HOLY SHIT! WE’RE IN THE SKY! THIS IS AWESOME! LOOK OUT THE WINDOW! WE’RE FLYING! WOW! LOOK HOW HIGH WE ARE NOW! MAN, THIS IS… WOW, LOOK AT THE CLOUDS! WE’RE IN THE CLOUDS, MAN!

I suspect that if I actually do this, however, the Nordic gentleman sitting next to me will either not understand a word I’m saying, punch me in the face until I am no longer conscious, or both. As he’s taking the ‘do not eat the offered meal, drink equal amounts of beer and mineral water, read a magazine while also watching a French movie with English sub-titles making fun of both Italians and Germans equally, and then ordering more beer and water’ approach to changing time zones, the best course of action is to simply sit here and type away industriously whilst listening to an Art Blakey album and sip my apple juice and water, and make not a sound. How odd: he’s wearing two wrist-watches of equal complexity.

In a short while perhaps I’ll ignore the enRoute entertainment system some more and watch some more of Blake’s 7. Then nap. Because it’s after 5:30AM in London now.

While one doesn’t actually like worrying, or even having some worry to cast aside from one’s awareness (as satisfactory as command of one’s concerns might be), there are a few things which have made themselves know over the past couple of days.

There is, for instance, the possibility of a strike by both the Network Rail and the Rail Maritime and Transport unions in England come Easter Weekend that could result in the UK’s collective inter-city rail system coming to a screaming halt, although they’re discussing ways to avoid this taking place. There’s been some pondering amongst some about whether this will have an effect on the number of people attending Odyssey 2010 (AKA: “EasterCon”), but I’m using the tube to get to Heathrow at that point on the calendar. ‘All good’, then.

British Airways is having labour trouble right now, wherein striking cabin crews have forced BA to cancel 1,100 flights, but I’m flying both to and from England on Air Canada. Fine there as well.

So… when this week’s episode of the Rick Mercer Report shows the following satirical commercial, fear enters my soul at the prospect of the following taking place in the middle of the afternoon tomorrow.

It’s probable that this ‘bit’ was created by Mr. Mercer as a reaction to being bumped from one domestic flight to another while travelling around Canada for the show. There’s been a few times I’ve heard of them cancelling FLIGHT-A and then putting those people onto FLIGHT-B so as to make a full compliment of passengers, which is fine in theory, but then why bother offering the additional flight in the first place? If there’s not sufficient trade for the offering of both flights, then it’s simply false advertising to say “we fly from Winnipeg to Vancouver 17 times a day!” and then cancel over half of them, isn’t it?

This doesn’t necessarily mean a damned thing about my flight from Vancouver to London, however. There’s a considerable difference between, for instance, flying from Toronto to Boston and flying across the entire Polar Region and North Atlantic. Perhaps there’s some sort of requirement for Air Canada to offer a particular number of domestic flights from one particular area to another in order to get their approval to fly to however many international centres they desire to serve. Anyone out there have any ideas about this? Is there an additional aspect to this based entirely on the fact that the people responsible for schedules are as thick as concrete on a hot day?

I’m planning of arriving as soon-ish as possible at the airport; that way they’ve less chance to do me out of a seat, even though the tickets have been paid for and reserved for weeks. The earlier you’re there, the better the possibility that the flight is not already fully assigned, making you SOL. Perhaps I really ought to have arrived there last Friday…?

One thing I will get to experience is the embarrassment of having someone call upstairs to make sure it’s alright to let me on the plane. This has happened both times I’ve flown, and at each end of the voyage: arrive at check-in, provide ticket details and passport, state no real preference about seating (other than ‘as far away from the drunken louts as possible’), wait patiently as we whip through a list of things no-one should ever say ‘yes’ to, even if true (have you left your luggage unattended for any length of time? were you approached by anyone asking you to transport something for them? did you agree? is there anything explosive in your bags? are you secreting heroin in your anal cavity? are you planning on doing any performance art whilst at your destination featuring inflatable donkeys, nudity, or both?), have the baggage weighed, then wait… and wait… while the poor soul behind the desk tries to figure out whether or not to explain that there’s a bloody huge red box flashing on their screen saying THIS PERSON IS ON A LIST OF PEOPLE WHO, WHEN FLYING, SOMEONE IMPORTANT HAS TO BE TOLD ABOUT IT. Typically the ticketing person has explained that they’ve got to call Security because they randomly are asked to do so (although the point of that process has never been stated), ask if I reserved my flight using my full name (I always do that for anything, not just flights), or simply look at me to check there’s not some odd bulge under my jacket that’s vaguely shaped like a side-arm and then run screaming for the door into their office.

Granted, the English author Michael Marshall Smith gets hauled into one of the interview rooms every time he goes to the USA, so I suppose the telephone call is the least of my concerns. Why I’m flagged is beyond me. I have no criminal record, I’ve never served in the Armed Forces, and have only occasionally called for the overthrow of a government (typically advocating for the use of a UN-approved democratic process).

The main worry right now is counting numbers of socks and boxer shorts, then determining how much everything weighs. My main piece of luggage allows for fifty pounds (50 LBS), which ought to be enough for anyone as tiny as myself. Even allowing for the promotional material being taken, I should be fine.

Something new to this trip is that one small piece of luggage goes with you into the cabin, one piece of luggage is checked and stored in the belly of the æroplane, and the third piece of luggage doesn’t go into the belly as usual but instead goes with you into the cabin. This seems… well, odd. If this is safety-based, one would think that it would be ‘safer’ to have as much of one’s stuff go into the belly where people can’t get at it, and just make sure someone scans the crap out of it before loading anything. If scanning is more stringent for carry-on baggage, then why are you letting me put anything in the cargo hold? On the other hand, perhaps the whole thing is based on balance, and putting more weight in the vertical centre of the tube… makes it… easier to fly… the aircraft…?

Please don’t try that bit of logic at home. I am not an æronautical engineer, nor have I even played one on TV.

Jennifer is driving me out to the airport to see me off properly. Nice. Frankly, I’d rather use the Canada Line, if only to be able to say that I went from the house to my hotel in London – door-to-door – without using an automobile, but that can be accomplished on the return.

Now… to check the dryer for more socks so I can stop worrying about finding somewhere to buy some there…

Merely because one is a penniless, debt-ridden, depressive, ex-actor struggling to get a publishing venture off the ground with little capital to back up one’s efforts doesn’t mean that one cannot have the wherewithal to venture onto the World Stage and attend an historic event in the United Kingdom! No no! Which is exactly why I’m attending World HorrorCon 2010 in Brighton; the 20^th time it’s been held, but the first time a World HorrorCon has been held off the North American continent! The following weekend, I’ll be at EasterCon: Odyssey 2010, the annual Science Fiction event for the UK, which is being held in Hayes, Middlesex… or “Heathrow” as most call it. Both events will see me standing behind a Dealers’ Table promoting my wares: four different, brand-new books from Atomic Fez!

How is all this possible, given the previous mention of my penurious state? It’s quite simple: VISA, and a loving, supportive wife.

Why this is being trumpeted here and not in a post on the Atomic Fez site is because much of this trip’s musings will have little to do with the books themselves, ‘Official Statements’, or the like. Yes, declarations of successful events engaged in at World HorrorCon – such as pitch sessions or panel discussions, for instance – will be found there, for it is appropriate for them to be there. On the other hand, statements such as my father’s question last autumn “why does every breakfast involve baked beans here?” or my own surprise that “not only can I wander anywhere around the hotel carrying a pint, people don’t understand my surprise that it’s allowed even after I explain about BC liquor laws” aren’t really something that has anything to do with the book trade. Some might suggest that alcohol of any sort has a great deal to do with the book trade, but that’s another matter entirely.

The trip involves me being there from the 23^rd of March to the 8^th of April, during which I check into hotels on a total of five different occasions. Granted, occasions number three and five involve the same hotel, but there’s still the ‘registration and settling’ period which takes a period of time to accomplish. Hardly much of a help, then.

There are a few things I’ve planned to accomplish while there, but most of the ‘big goals’ were accomplished last time London was viewed. That said, there are things to be done:

• the other 95% of the British Museum which wasn’t seen due to over-dosing on the Enlightenment Gallery
  • especially important is seeing The Staffordshire Hoard display
• the other 66% of the National Gallery and all of the National Portrait Gallery that were missed last time
• possibly chunks of The Tate Modern as only the Turbine Hall was viewed in the autumn of 2008
• it might be good to see Piccadilly Circus / the Houses of Parliament / Hyde Park / the Lloyd’s Building (at night this time) in order to say one had done so
• if there’s some sort of exciting music gig I might check it out, but the following being held at Royal Albert Hall are unlikely to be seen:
  • The Who, performing Quadrophenia and other ‘classic rock’, mostly due to it being sold out and more expensive than can be comprehensible
  • The Specials, re-formed – unless you listen to Jerry Dammers – and on their 30^th Anniversary tour, because the tickets are £35 and up, plus it just doesn’t seem the right venue to be listening to those up-beat, 2-tone, dance-happy Ska-legends, really, does it…?
• Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club doesn’t have anything exciting scheduled even, which is a shame.
• there are a few pubs which haven’t been seen yet… for their historical merit, obviously.

Mostly, however, the principle thing I want to do during the few ‘off days’ while there is exercise my skills as a flâneur, do things as the mood strikes, and see what happens by chance. This is probably the best attitude to have during any travel, but one of the Major World Cities it’s easy to make lists of THINGS ONE MUST SEE WHETHER YOU HAVE TIME TO APPRECIATE THEM OR NOT. Understandable, yet not something enjoyable in the end, as all one ends up with is a piece of paper with check-marks and little memory of the things they’re marking have been accomplished.

As most of the time will be spent endlessly standing in a large, airless hotel convention room encouraging people to part with their cash in return for books, the few occasions one can do something ‘fun’ oughtn’t to be filled with too much work or ‘expected results within the following time frame’. So it won’t.

It’s certainly hoped that this is the beginning of actually making something of myself as a ‘real adult’. As I’ll be hitting 44-years-of-age the same day of the return flight, that may seem an odd statement, but it’s not. To be this old, yet never having been particularly successful in any of one’s previously chosen professions, and now be seemingly un-able to hold down ‘a real job’ (owing to varying levels of ability on a day-to-day basis), as well as equally relying on one’s partner for supporting oneself… well, it makes one rather sad, even if one wasn’t dealing with chronic and clinically diagnosed depression.

Given the amount of time one has left, plus the amount of money and time spent leading to this particular campaign of accomplishment, there’s a lot riding on this. Good or bad, it’s all up to me.

Having proved last week that we don’t have winter, and our Spring is both incredible, as well as just as incredibly unpredictable as anywhere else in the world, let us reaffirm the stereotype that Canada is nought but wind-swept tundra with today’s photos, preceded by a topical quotation from A.E. Housman [1859 – 1936]:

About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow

–“A Shropshire Lad” [1896]; Nº2, st. iii

I wonder what the people in the Canadian Maritimes are doing right now…? Probably giggling at us, I suspect.

Having proved last month during the Winter Olympics that February around here is as unpredictable as anywhere else in the world (Calgary also had to truck-in snow in 1988), let us put to rest the stereotype that Canada is nought but wind-swept tundra with today’s photos, preceded by a topical quotation from the Bard of Avon:

Daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

–“The Winter’s Tale” [1610 – 1611]; Act IV, sc iii, 118

I wonder what the people in the Canadian Maritimes are doing right now…?