[Leica] Home from London

[Jean-Michel Mertz]

Thanks for this detailed message. Interesting but somewhat frightening. Good to hear you're safely home! JM

Jean-Michel Mertz
68750 - Bergheim

________________________________
De : LUG <lug-bounces+j2m46=hotmail.fr at leica-users.org> de la part de Brian Reid <reid at mejac.palo-alto.ca.us>
Envoyé : mardi 17 mars 2020 02:26
À : Leica Users Group <lug at leica-users.org>
Objet : [Leica] Home from London

I am safely home from London. Below is the email I sent my extended
family about the trip.

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The flight was uneventful. When we landed, the pilot told us to remain
in our seats until the arrival team came on board and gave further
instructions. The usual collection of arrogant entitled middle-aged men
with criminally oversize carry-on bags ignored those instructions and
pushed their way through to cluster near the exit door, as they always
do.

A crew of 4 medical-looking people with clipboards came in and fanned
out around the airplane. Delightfully, they ignored the hyper entitled
men (who were by now pushing to be allowed out the exit door) and went
row by row to people who were still in their seats. We were each handed
a form to fill out with the facts of our visit (where have you been,
what symptoms might you have, etc).

They took us out into the jetway in batches of 12. We were met by people
who looked like they were EMTs borrowed from ambulance companies, who
interviewed us, scanned our foreheads with no-touch thermometers, and
listened briefly to our airways. I checked out fine; no fever, no
bronchial sounds, and I had been nowhere but Battersea. My EMT signed my
form and I was told to wait over there.

Three or four people in police uniforms were just standing around
watching. I didn't see any behavior that needed the attention of the
police, but I'm sure there has been and will be.

 From there we were escorted to passport control. One escort per group of
12. I have "global entry", but in 5 years of using it, it has never
worked once--the camera always takes a picture of the top of my head
when I look down to see where the fingerprint scanner might be. So then
(as always) I had to get in the passport line and talk to them. At least
as a global-entry reject I get to butt into the front of the passport
line.

I figured that the escorted batches of 12 were like the metering lights
on freeways. They ensured that the backed-up people would remain on the
airplane instead of clogging the hallways like in the news photos you've
probably all seen.

 From there we parted with our escorts and were sent to baggage claim. We
got our bags. I wore fresh latex gloves. I needed to open my checked bag
to get out the bottle of pump-spray isopropanol to douse the suitcase
(you don't know who might have handled it) and then doused my hands
after ditching the gloves. I also doused my hair for good measure.

An unusually large set of dogs was sniffing suitcases. I've always seen
one dog, or occasionally two, but there were at least 10 circling around
Baggage Claim 4. They ignored me. Good thing I didn't have any peanut
butter in there this time. I don't know what they were looking for.
Contraband Purell?

I went outdoors to the "meet drivers here" section, and waited for my
driver. He drove me home quickly, filling the time with his usual
collection of funny stories about his past. I guess he doesn't care that
I've heard them all 20 times.

A shower felt good.

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