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captainsblogThe kids, and their kitteh, headed back to Rochester tonight. The house is much quieter, less cluttered, and yet I miss them-all terribly already. We ended the visit with a rite of passage for Em that reflected a longago one for us.
The night after our wedding, 25 years ago this past September, we drove north to Toronto to catch a British Airways flight to London for our honeymoon. As did far more than the available capacity of that particular BA 747. We ultimately wound up stuck on an Air Canada flight that left and arrived at about the same time, but with the Honeymooners assigned seats in different rows (Eleanor played the honeymoon card and talked us into adjacent seats for the mostly-sleepy redeye flight). As we awoke, we heard the morning announcements in three languages- ours, French (Air Canada, duh, eh?), and German (the plane continued to what was then, still, West Germany after the London stop). Three of those announcements included our last name with various amounts of inflections and umlauts- would we please stop and see the British Airways agents at the gate when/quand/vhen we deplaned? Immediately, we began a game of What country is our luggage in?, but it wound up much more nicely benign than that. Rather, Auntie BA was at the gate to hand us two £200 vouchers for our having been bumped. "Butbutbut... we left and arrived at about the same time!", I semi-protested. "Well, yes," answered the attendant, "but you didn't get to fly British!"
Fair enough. Ever fairer, as shown on the return voyage a week later. Having learned our lesson, we checked in at Heathrow hours in advance, even Tubing back into the city after we did so for a final bit of galleryseeing. During the flight home, the attendants proceeded to attend, presenting us with small bottles of champagne to celebrate our recent nuptials- which we'd never mentioned on this check-in, but which must've been carried back to them from the prior flights' crews. All these years later, we've kept the empty bottles from that occasion:
So when Emily asked me, earlier today, if I'd get her and Cameron a bottle of sparkling wine for their first New Years Eve together, a few hours still before her actual 21st birthday, I wanted this to be the brand for them to celebrate with. Alas, our nearby go-to liquor store did not carry G.H. Mumm from Reims, but they did have a perfectly lovely bottle of a Mumm Napa sparkling white, from a California winery which does descend from the French Champagne house of our memories.
So it ain't quite the same. But then, they ain't quite married, either, so it'll do for now.
The night after our wedding, 25 years ago this past September, we drove north to Toronto to catch a British Airways flight to London for our honeymoon. As did far more than the available capacity of that particular BA 747. We ultimately wound up stuck on an Air Canada flight that left and arrived at about the same time, but with the Honeymooners assigned seats in different rows (Eleanor played the honeymoon card and talked us into adjacent seats for the mostly-sleepy redeye flight). As we awoke, we heard the morning announcements in three languages- ours, French (Air Canada, duh, eh?), and German (the plane continued to what was then, still, West Germany after the London stop). Three of those announcements included our last name with various amounts of inflections and umlauts- would we please stop and see the British Airways agents at the gate when/quand/vhen we deplaned? Immediately, we began a game of What country is our luggage in?, but it wound up much more nicely benign than that. Rather, Auntie BA was at the gate to hand us two £200 vouchers for our having been bumped. "Butbutbut... we left and arrived at about the same time!", I semi-protested. "Well, yes," answered the attendant, "but you didn't get to fly British!"
Fair enough. Ever fairer, as shown on the return voyage a week later. Having learned our lesson, we checked in at Heathrow hours in advance, even Tubing back into the city after we did so for a final bit of galleryseeing. During the flight home, the attendants proceeded to attend, presenting us with small bottles of champagne to celebrate our recent nuptials- which we'd never mentioned on this check-in, but which must've been carried back to them from the prior flights' crews. All these years later, we've kept the empty bottles from that occasion:
So when Emily asked me, earlier today, if I'd get her and Cameron a bottle of sparkling wine for their first New Years Eve together, a few hours still before her actual 21st birthday, I wanted this to be the brand for them to celebrate with. Alas, our nearby go-to liquor store did not carry G.H. Mumm from Reims, but they did have a perfectly lovely bottle of a Mumm Napa sparkling white, from a California winery which does descend from the French Champagne house of our memories.
So it ain't quite the same. But then, they ain't quite married, either, so it'll do for now.
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Date: 2012-12-31 11:23 pm (UTC)