Escape to Paradise Regained

“For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,
A fairer Paradise is founded now” [John M]

I’m not sure that England could be called a “seat of earthly bliss” before the pandemic, the Ukraine war and the disastrous “mini budget but Sarasota is definitely the nearest to a”Paradise Regained” that any of us could reach within a day’s travelling from Cambridge. 

Our planned “escape” to Sarasota in Florida was to be 12 December 2023. But that was the day Cambridge experienced its biggest snowfall for some time. The week before our planned “escape”, Cambridge had freezing temperatures and bright sunny days so it was easy for the snow to settle on top of the ice during the night before our departure. 

We checked our train on the Cambridge station Departures board and found that not only had OUR train to London been cancelled but every train to London for a few hours had been cancelled except for a train at 5.20am. 

We rang Panther taxis and changed our taxi time to 4.50am. True to form as always, their top driver appeared on time in his large Mercedes. After cruising around Ninewells rather than risking a three point turn on the snow covered ice we set off towards the entrance to our estate. 

The exit on to the Babraham Road is on a gentle slope which at first caused our car to gently slide sideways down from the exit. So our driver Roger tried a few more times to ascend the slope. It was only on the third subsequent try with a very gentle acceleration that he managed to reach the main road. 

The rest of the journey was equally cautious but uneventful, thank goodness. It was with a grateful thanks that we bade farewell to Roger our trusty Panther driver hoping that we would not need him again that morning. 

Anxiously eyeing the Departures board, we noted that our one train to London was still shown as “On Time”. However, after waiting until the departure time on platform 2, it was evident that it would NOT be “on time”. Even more frustrating was that the train was sitting by platform 2 showing no signs of cranking up to depart. 

It turned out that our train driver had been unable to reach the station so they were looking for somebody else to drive the train. As none of us appeared to be qualified drivers we had wait until a “substitute train driver” appeared. On his arrival, we all cheered but he looked at us and simply scowled, obviously annoyed at having been woken at such an early hour. 

We set off at last in a completely unheated train. The snow laying in our carriage showed no signs of melting during the whole bumpy journey so it must have been zero degrees or very near. 

Thank goodness for the Elizabeth Line which now runs between Liverpool Street Station and Heathrow without a break. 

Our next problem was obtaining official boarding passes for our “super super special” tickets we had obtained for our flight. “Go upstairs! Go upstairs!”, yelled an extremely excited man directing a very long line waiting at the American Airlines desks. 

Our departure day, December 12, was the only day in the month without strikes so we assumed the large crowds were simply trying escape England before everything came to a standstill. However, after a few minutes observing the puzzled faces of the American Airways staff, we finally received our boarding passes for the two flights that were to transport us to Sarasota. 

Of course, next comes the dreaded TSA examination where we have to expose ourselves to all sorts of humiliation. With my metal knee, I always “beep” the detector so I am exposed to a different machine plus I am felt all over in case I am carrying any more metal objects on my body. Of course, because I have removed my belt, my trousers tend to fall down. Then I was instructed to remove my boots. Then a nice man appeared and, feeling sorry for me, said, “He doesn’t have to remove his boots”. I felt good about that until later when the man feeling me down ordered me to remove my boots. I mentioned gently, so as not to annoy him, that the other man had said I could keep my boots on. He insisted and actually disappeared with my boots to Xray them which seemed very impressive at the time. 

Emerging from TSA myself with snow boots in hand and trousers falling down, we were at last on our way, but realising that those of us with titanium knees are forever condemned to be frisked and examined fully for the rest of our lives. 

After a delicious coffee and cheese sandwich, we were at last squeezed into a friendly American Airways 777 tube and were on our way. My partner called out as we departed that it was exactly 12 seconds past the 12th minute past 12 o’clock on the 12th day of the 12th month of the year. So we were certain that THIS 777 was not going to get lost. 

We were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the vegan meal and I was happy with the number of G & Ts that were served with the meal. 

Unfortunately my pleasure was severely truncated by border control on arrival. I had spent a considerably amount of time and money being cleared for security firstly by the UK government then by the US government to enable me to check in using just one passport recognition machine. As I had not actually received my pass, I approached border control with the paperwork they had sent me. It said I had only to check in with security to receive my “Global Entry” pass. 

No such luck as I was met by border control who seemed almost angry at me on behalf of their government. “You do NOT qualify”, I was told. “You must line up over there and wait for some time like everyone else. Your pass has been revoked by the government ” 

I explained that I had been refused a visa because I overstayed the six months because there were no flights out of the USA during the initial stages of the pandemic. But Homeland Security had relented a teeny weeny bit and issued me with a one year visa which I was now using. 

I kept on talking, glancing at the “normal” huge line of USA arrivals on the other side of the hall, explaining my situation until I was given a blank sheet of paper with squiggle on it. This was enough to get me into the dear old US of A, thank goodness. I was back! 

Changing flights in Charlotte was difficult in comparison to our other route via Atlanta. In Atlanta, the internal flights leave from the same security area as the international flights. In Charlotte, the two areas are separate despite there being no apparent reason for them to be separate. Luckily we had plenty of time so, boots and belt in hand, we took our time completing the security requirements yet again. 

After a very pleasant introduction to the local dark herb beer, we boarded our 737 which spent about half an hour in the queue before being able to take off. It’s not a very long flight from Charlotte to Sarasota and the approach to the airport over our favourite route 41 was very pleasant. But the ultimate pleasure after landing was feeling the waft of warm balmy air over us as we left the plane. 

Another pleasure awaiting us as we left the airport building. The 99 bus driver spotted us coming her way so she stopped and waited for us to board her bus. This friendly smiling driver transported us down our route 41 then up the Boulevard of the Arts to the bus stop just outside our door. 

The following day we were at last back on our beloved beach. Half of the beach has actually disappeared as a result of Hurricane Ian. Many of the trees are “bent down” and a few of the palms are shredded but everything else seems back to normal. 

Our English “earthly bliss” may be failed at the moment but our “fairer Paradise” in Sarasota is still living up to its reputation even after hurricane Ian.

“For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,
A fairer Paradise is founded now”