CTSC Day 2

2014-08-04 Day 2–Jet Lag Day

The only thing worse than flying next to a cranky kid is flying next to a cranky grown-up.  Next time, chump, spring for business class and the both of us will be better off for it.

75 minute stopover with plane change at Reykjavik Keflavik airport:  the only coffee machine in the terminal is broken.  Seriously?

Upon arriving, the object is to stay awake until the local bedtime.  I had a layover of about 6 hours in Glasgow and although FlyBE wouldn't check in my stuff until 90 minutes before departure, a luggage service took it for a reasonable fee.  An ATM machine promised cash with no fees (we'll see later how that works out) and an express bus runs from the airport to Buchanan Station about every 20 minutes, so I headed into town to kill time.  Perhaps I have a jaded eye, but there wasn't a lot to see. A better choice might have been a castle tour, but there wasn't enough time to set one up.  I went native and had a couple of pints of John Smith's for lunch.  A city is a city these days or so it seems:  buskers, panhandlers, Subway.

On the bus into town a foursome of remarkably well-behaved footballers tried to get a bonnie lass to tweet a pic of them, ostensibly for a charity scavenger hunt they were on.  She wasn't buying it, but having nothing else to do, I fumbled with my phone and burnt some of my data allowance obliging them.

At Islay airport while scouting out ground transport, I got a first-hand introduction to the Highland Midge.  Not as voracious as our own black fly, they are even smaller and annoying enough to drive me back inside the terminal.  Fortunately they appeared to only be interested in greeting new arrivals and did not make their presence known for the rest of the trip.

A short taxi ride from Islay airport to the Lochside Hotel.  The room is a lot smaller than the web pic would have you believe, but I didn't miss my daily stretching routine anyway.  European efficiency, including the in-line water heater.

While the room may not have been as luxurious as the advertising, the Lochside's single malt bar more than made up for that minor disappointment.  I expect that most aficionados would have the same immediate reaction as I did:  "I did not book a long enough stay."  I had a Bowmore 15 Years Old Darkest and didn't take notes–I was too tired and it seemed like I would be trying to bail out the ocean.

Obstructed view from the room–that's OK, not going to be hanging out here much.