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We only children often look longingly at larger families, particularly on vacations, when we see brothers and sisters laughing and joking, making shared memories that just don’t happen for us. Josephine is really such a good sport. She colors and draws when we go out to eat; she takes pretend notes on little notepads when we go on tours; she poses for fun solo pictures at monuments. But I know she wishes she had a partner in crime – at least sometimes! So, when our good friends, Lindsey and Andy, asked if we could take an adventure with them and their daughter, Lochlyn (also an only child), over the Christmas break, we leapt at the chance.

We pondered a few different destinations, but we landed on Spain because Jamil and I know it so well and because neither Lindsey nor Andy had ever spent much time in Madrid, one of my favorite cities on Earth. I wanted to show them around. Additionally, it was Lochlyn’s birthday on December 28, and I wanted to make it amazing, since she’d never been able to celebrate with friends before. 

Because Lindsey and Andy weren’t familiar with Madrid, I set out to plan Lochlyn’s birthday activities. I wanted to do something historical, something just plain fun, and I wanted to introduce Lochlyn and her family to phenomenal Spanish food. 

We started the day by walking to the Palacio Real, where we had hired a guide to give us a private tour. The Palacio Real in Madrid is really special. With 3,418 rooms, it’s absolutely gigantic, the largest in Western Europe, and they rotate which rooms are available to visit, so you can see something different each time you go. It’s also fully furnished (at least, it is in the parts open to the public), which is very unusual. Normally, when you visit a castle or a palace, it’s empty; you have to use your imagination about what kinds of fineries might have filled those cavernous spaces. At the Palacio Real, you can see the original furniture, the art, the workmanship. You can also marvel at the Royal Quartet, a collection of decorated Stradivarius instruments, 4 of only 11 such pieces in existence. In addition, you can enter the throne room and see where the King and Queen of Spain still receive guests today. None of that is on view at Versailles. Oh, and because it was Christmastime when we went, the palace was displaying its full nativity scene, which dates back to the 1700s. It stretches all around a massive room and has elaborate scenes of daily life in the Enlightenment Era. You should make this a must-see on a winter trip to Madrid.

(The guide made all the difference, by the way. We found him through Babylon Tours, and his name was David. You should definitely request him if you want a tour of Madrid, any tour at all.)

From the Palacio Real, we made our way to lunch at Cervecería Cervantes, our all-time favorite, very traditional tapas bar in Madrid. Cervantes always has an intimidating line stretching out the front door, but it’s usually not as bad of a wait as you might think, and it’s totally worth the effort. Cervantes bustles with energy, Spaniards of all ages congregate around tiny tables on rickety wooden chairs, devouring the finest tortilla espanola and pimientos de Padron in the city. We adore the boquerones (pickled anchovies), the setas (oyster mushrooms) with jamón Serrano, the Ensalada de la Casa, the pulpo a la Gallega (steamed octopus with potatoes and paprika)… Really, it’s all fabulous. Drink the house Rioja wine or have a cana of Mahou beer. Prepare to stay a while and order a ton. 

Clearly, I love it there, so it was a no-brainer for Lochlyn’s birthday lunch. Josephine tried with all her might to convince Lochlyn to fall in love with the fried pimientos (but failed). Lochlyn enjoyed piles of jamón and loads of tortillas. We were all totally satisfied, and it was exciting to see Josephine share her passion for Spanish tapas with a friend. 

If you have that kind of elaborate lunch in Madrid, you’ll be thrilled that it’s such a walking city, because you’ll need a ton of steps to burn off those calories, and winter is ideal in Madrid to do that walking. The temperature ranges from the high 30s in the wee hours to the high 50s when the sun is at its zenith. The major sites are scorching-hot in the summers: in July, you might literally melt in the Puerta del Sol or spontaneously combust in the Plaza Mayor. So winter is really the time to explore. With Lindsey and Andy that day, I walked over 23,000 steps. We might have done even more, except that their stroller got lost in London, so Lochlyn and Josephine had to alternate using ours. A six year old takes a lot of breaks! 

Jamil took full advantage of that tendency by planning an interlude at Ikono, a house of illusions in the same plaza as the Reina Sofía museum. While Lindsey, Andy, and I popped into the Reina Sofía for a quick viewing of Picasso’s Guernica, Jamil took Lochlyn and Josephine to Ikono, where they jumped in a ball pit, stood on “the ceiling”, and generally goofed around. By the time we finished, we barely had enough time to scurry down the Paseo del Prado, past the festive light installations, to our hotel to get ready for dinner at a restaurant that never, ever disappoints (although vegetarians might disagree).

As soon as we knew we were heading to Madrid, I called El Landó to make a reservation for her birthday. El Landó doesn’t do online reservations. I always call, but I’m pretty sure they now also do WhatsApp because I’ve gotten WhatsApp messages from them to confirm my reservations. That might be easier for travelers who don’t speak Spanish. El Landó itself might even seem a little intimidating to some travelers because it’s pretty old school. Think dark wood paneling, white tablecloths, waiters in suits. But it isn’t really stuffy at all; everyone speaks English, the menu is very easy to understand. It’s just old school. 

You go to El Landó for a few things: the tomato appetizer with garlic, the huevos estrellados con jamón (french fries topped with scrambled fried eggs and ham), and the steak. We usually get the churrasco cut, which I think is related to the ribeye, but I’m not sure. Lindsey also ordered the solomillo, which is the closest thing to our filet mignon. They come piping hot and crusty, surrounded by mounds of chunky salt. It’s astonishingly delicious. Always order the house red. It’s great and so reasonable — maybe 30 euros! If you have room for dessert, the flan is wonderful, and they certainly served it with style for Lochlyn’s birthday, adding a giant flare to the top. I watched the spectacle while sipping incredible brandy, warmed over a snifter. As we left, I reflected on the many meals we’ve had at El Landó, from New Year’s Eve dinner to welcome 2016, not knowing I was pregnant, to our anniversary dinner in 2018, to a celebratory welcome of Chris and Carlos to Spain in 2019. It’s always consistent, always posh, always memorable. You should go.

And THAT was Lochlyn’s birthday!

Author: Jessica Givens.

Parting Ways for a Bit

Despite our past trips to the Middle East, Israel never appeared on our itineraries for a few reasons. First, Jamil is half-Palestinian. His entire family immigrated to the US in the 70s because, well, things got pretty uncomfortable for them in Israel. Clearly, he’s not thrilled with the political situation. Second, his family members and some Palestinian friends traveling back to Israel described long hours in the airport with grueling security interviews — not the welcome wagon we want greeting us. Third, we’ve got Lebanese, Egyptian, and Jordanian stamps on our passports. Sounds like red flags to me. Why risk it?

But my mom has mentioned a desire to go to the Holy Land many times recently, so this year, she and my dad trekked off to biblical territory while Jamil and I planned a week with friends in Spain to give Josephine a chance to travel with someone her age. My mom is writing her own set of blog posts to give you insight into how people with physical and age-related limitations travel, but I wanted to provide a little background on the legwork I did to set them up with the trip of a lifetime.

I considered using the tour group that hosted us in Egypt and Jordan last year, but the astronomical prices gave me heartburn. And there aren’t as many nuances to an Israel trip. There are some highlights to hit, but it’s not like a trip to Egypt, where you need to coordinate a tour guide who flies with you all over the country and follows your cruise ship by land up the Nile. For this, I needed an excellent guide with a plush car and a well-appointed hotel. That was pretty much it. So I decided to do it myself.

I was highly concerned about my parents getting held up in the airport for hours on end. My dad’s back nags him constantly, and my mother’s health conditions can strike at any time, leaving her quite undone. I couldn’t fathom them languishing in hard, pleather airport chairs, so I arranged a VIP service and called Israel Welcome to accompany them. On the way in, I went with the super-duper fancy Gold Level, while on the way out, I went a tier down to Silver, skipping the private terminal and just having someone walk them through immigration and security. I figured the Israelis would scrutinize arrivals much more heavily than departures (and I was correct – not a big deal at all). 

A man met my parents at their plane and escorted them to the Fattal Lounge in the private terminal. He collected their bags and took their passports to security while they drank champagne and enjoyed their first Israeli meal of the trip. I’m sure my mom will describe the opulence in greater detail, but what mattered to me was that they were sitting comfortably while the airport security people decided whether they needed to do a cavity search. Ultimately, they did not. In fact, they were in and out more quickly than they would have been in Houston, and the Israel Welcome team then dropped them safely at their hotels. They say it was worth every penny, and for me it really was, too.

With respect to their tours, I initially planned to use the tour guides associated with the Waldorf-Astoria Jerusalem, where they’d be spending five nights. However, the concierge had to serve as a middle man, which kind of drove me crazy. So I forged my own path, relying on TripAdvisor and Google Reviews to find Danny the Digger, who employs a host of historian tour guides. We arranged the tours with my parents’ guide, Moti, through WhatsApp, giving him a summary of what they wanted to see and letting him run with it. My parents said he knew every era of human history, beginning with the dawn of time, easily as knowledgeable as the guides we had in Egypt. It definitely took a little extra effort to plow through the many reviews on the internet, but we saved so much money and sacrificed neither luxury nor experience.

I feel like multigenerational travel sometimes has to go this way, splitting up for a bit here and there for everyone to explore the corners of the world that intrigue them. And I feel like my parents’ separate adventures teach Josephine that time doesn’t extinguish wanderlust. She can travel for her entire life, and if she’s willing to exert a little effort, she can do so in style, on her terms.

Author: Jessica Givens.

Touring Rome

Our family highly recommends Rome in December/January. The weather is usually good (okay, it rained the entire time we were there last year), the crowds and prices are somewhat mitigated, and the city lights up its streets in festivity that the US doesn’t attempt to match. 

Most years, we take educational tours around Rome. We always use the same company, going through Cristina Giannicchi, who has incredible guides. Cristina’s guides meet you at your hotel or at the site you’re touring, and you usually walk or take taxis during the tours. Their prices are so reasonable for the quality. We’ve done the uber pricey guides. My recommendation: skip them. They’re pompous and only mildly knowledgeable. With Cristina, you get historians. I always ask for Mauro because he’s taken us on at least 8 tours, and I love his somewhat jaded yet respectful take on the monuments and their builders. If you want to hire Cristina and her group, email her at crisgiannicchi@gmail.com.

This year was unlike other years, however. We arrived on December 23 after taking a 6AM flight, so our eyes were too glazed to take in much culture. As in other years, we stayed in a giant room at the petite Lord Byron Hotel, which is about to get a desperately needed facelift. The Lord Byron is located in Parioli, where all the embassies are; it’s not super convenient, but the bang for the buck is huge, and the food in Parioli towers over the food in the rest of Rome. That’s really what keeps drawing us back. It wouldn’t make sense to stay elsewhere and take taxis to Parioli for every dinner, which is what we’d do.

Anyway, here we were, back at the Lord Byron, arriving the day before my birthday, and I felt like formal tours wouldn’t inspire in Josephine the love of Rome that I feel. I wanted to walk her around and show her the beautiful sites she’s already seen multiple times to whittle lasting memories into her brain. So, what we did was buy regular tickets to the Colosseum — no access to the floor, nothing fancy, just wandering. My stories of gladiators, naval battles, and emperors mesmerized her. I told her about the corrupt Nero, whose Domus Aurea (Golden House) once stood where the Colosseum is today, and pointed out where his massive statue likely stood. We talked about Vespasian, who tore all signs of Nero’s self-glorification to bits to erect the most famous amphitheater in the world. We talked about how the walls would have been white with marble, lined with statues, and far taller than they are today. From the upper levels, we peered down at the labyrinthine chambers and passageways, where gladiators, lions, Christians, bears, ostriches, and so forth awaited their turn in the ring. It was such a wonderful little mommy-delivered tour, and the new museum-like displays upstairs were extremely helpful in providing a didactic experience. I really wanted to take her to the Forum the next day, but things were sold out, and I decided instead to show her the various obelisks and columns that stand in piazzas throughout the centro. 

I’m no Mauro or Cristina, but I think she likes hearing the history from me. I sure love sharing my passion with her. 

Author: Jessica Givens.

Our Favorite Restaurants in Rome (and yes, we take a child)

We go somewhat off the beaten path to eat in Rome because we stay in a neighborhood, called Parioli, that’s not so popular with tourists. It’s very near the city center, but it’s not exactly in the mix. We really like it over there. It’s just a fifteen minute walk through the Villa Borghese, and we invariably pass by children playing on a playground or a puppet show. So it’s a fun walk. Plus, we’ve made that walk so many times, I don’t even know what we’d do if we stayed closer to the action. 

Parioli is amazing for restaurants because people actually live there. It’s where the embassies are. It’s where the Prime Minister’s residence is. People go out to eat well there. If you happen to venture to any of the following spots, I think you’ll be glad you did.

• Al Ceppo

Al Ceppo exudes an old guard vibe. Around the room, you’re likely to see businessmen pressing the flesh right next to families celebrating the holidays. It’s a well-heeled crowd, definitely not one down with ripped jeans or disheveled appearances. Some people might find the old-school wood paneling and the formality intimidating, but we love it. And the food is anything but stodgy. The soft egg with parmesan cream (pictured) is phenomenal and different, and the puntarelle salad is perfect. Puntarelle shines on Roman menus only in the winter, when the winter chicory blooms; the Puntarelle a la Romana salad consists of thinly sliced, slightly bitter chicory, laced with salty anchovies and pungent olive oil. I cannot recommend it enough. However, at Al Ceppo, Josephine’s vote is for the truffle pasta, smothered tableside in forest fresh, shaved black truffles. Everything on the menu is fantastic. It’s worth the cab ride.

• Ambasciata d’Abruzzo

This may be my favorite restaurant in Rome. It’s casual. It’s laid back. It’s open until midnight. I wouldn’t recommend it for New Year’s, which we tried to do in 2016-2017. It wasn’t great because the food there is really suited for sitting around with large portions in the center of the table, not in a prix fixe setting. But otherwise, it’s been amazing. 

At Ambasciata d’Abruzzo, you’ll be surrounded by locals of all ages. We see young people coming in at 10:30 for a meal; we see old people sipping Brunellos until all hours. Everyone enjoys it. 

What I would recommend the most are the pastas, particularly the Rigatoni alla Gricia (at least I think it’s rigatoni — the gricia sauce is basically good with anything). “Alla Gricia” is a traditional Roman preparation of guanciale (cured pork jowl), pecorino cheese, and black pepper. The sharp saltiness of the pecorino and the crunch of the guanciale make my toes curl. I love it that much. It’s actually good even when it’s bad because it’s so hard to go wrong. However, at Ambasciata d’Abruzzo, it’s at its finest. Josephine loves the Bucatini all’Amatriciana, super fat, long noodles, covered in tomatoes, guanciale, pecorino, and black pepper. It’s just a tomato-laden Gricia sauce. You’d also be missing out if you didn’t get the house-made mozzarella with prosciutto and the carciofi alla Romana (the most tender, delectable artichokes in the world). Jamil would also say to get the Maialino, which is suckling pig, served with crunchy pan potatoes. You really cannot go wrong.

What makes it even better is how reasonable the wine list is. You can get a delicious Ripasso di Valpolicella for probably $30. And I’m sure dessert is outstanding, but to tell the truth, I’ve never made it that far. My stomach taps out!

• Gallura

I’ve now spent two birthdays here, and I’ll probably do it again next year, given the opportunity. Gallura offers absurdly fresh seafood of every variety, from squid and baby octopus to sea urchins and all kinds of fish. When you walk in, there’s a wall of glass to your left, where you can watch the chefs in their spotless kitchen as they prepare the most gorgeous seafood dishes I’ve ever seen outside Japan.

As for the food, it’s really remarkable. The fritto misto of seafood is crisp, airy, and perfectly salty. As Americans accustomed to paltry shellfish offerings of shrimp, scallops, and oysters, with calamari and octopus as daring additions here and there, we gawk at the array of crunchy crustaceans Gallura serves up so unprepossessingly. The crudos bear not a hint of fishiness. The catch of the day shines in black truffles and porcini. We’ve ordered many other things on the menu, and they’ve all been excellent. Plus, the ambience is elegant, and the owner is always there, overseeing each dish. She’s attentive and exuberant. It’s just a good vibe.

I think it’s an ideal place to spend Christmas Eve because Italians are known for celebrating the Feast of the Seven Fishes that evening. No one really knows exactly what those seven fishes are supposed to represent — the number of sacraments, the seven days of creation, the seven virtues, the seven deadly sins and the seven days it took Mary and Joseph to reach Bethlehem before baby Jesus was born — maybe any number of those things. In any case, I love seafood, so I’m into a feast of fishes, especially at Gallura.

• Armando al Pantheon

The word is really out on this place. It’s so good and so centrally located – literally right next to the Pantheon – that it was destined to explode. Reservations book a month in advance, and I highly recommend that you get on that bandwagon because it is so consistent. I haven’t had too many dishes here because I generally order pasta. You cannot go wrong with Spaghetti alla Gricia or Cacio e Pepe. I will say the menu is somewhat organ-heavy, but remember, Rome was traditionally a very poor city. The people were poor. The food was poor. I just don’t go out of my way to eat lungs, so I won’t order that, but you totally can!

• Roscioli

We have only been to Roscioli once, but it was a giant hit. Josephine insisted on ordering the spicy sardine appetizer, and she devoured the entire plate. I’m not even sure I got to try it. However, we did get to share the rigatoni all’Amatriciana and the pan-cooked octopus, while Jamil enjoyed the carbonara pasta. Everything was perfect.

I also loved the setup of the restaurant. There’s an active deli at the front, where you can check out the meats, cheeses, and other cured items the restaurant serves. Then, the restaurant itself is narrow and a little tight, just what I’m looking for in Rome’s city center, somewhere bustling and vibrant, where I can hear Italian in the air.

All told, Roscioli is an excellent option in the city center. It’s popular, though, so make a reservation!

Author: Jessica Givens.

Christmas Day in Rome

Two years in a row, we’ve spent Christmas day in Rome. I’d be tempted to do it again, but I really do miss our small extended family on those days. In researching what to do on Christmas Day, I came up with pitiful guidance. What restaurants would be open? Any? Last year, we didn’t get to find out because it was pouring rain, and we were just coming out of COVID. The Italian government issued an outdoor mask mandate while we were there. Let’s just say it was strange.

This year, I learned that Italians don’t put much stock in Christmas dinner. The big meal of the day is lunch. Poring over various websites, I found Ristorante All’Oro, which was about a mile from our hotel. It was far different from how we typically eat on vacation. We’re not big on Michelin star restaurants because they’re often extremely expensive prix-fixe menus (of which my dad won’t eat about 50%) with tiny portions. But this was Christmas, and there weren’t many options that made sense. The whole experience was so amazing that I think we’ll always include the restaurant on our itinerary from now on. There were teeny little gourmet things, but they weren’t too pretentious, and the truffle pasta puts everything in the US to shame. I heartily recommend you add it to your Rome list.

So, after that meal, we went back to the hotel, put on our walking shoes, and made our way to the Vatican, thinking we might as well show Josephine the nativity scene, since nothing else would be open. We were wrong. As it turned out, by 6:30 or 7, the streets pulsed with people. St. Peter’s Square streamed with light. There were multiple nativity scenes, not just the big one in the center of the square, which is life-sized and stunning, but also little nativity scenes from all over Europe, set up in a large exhibit. 

Walking away from St. Peter’s after seeing countless mangers, we crossed the Tiber and looked back to see the imposing Castell Sant’Angelo, used for centuries by popes and dignitaries but originally the tomb of the Emperor Hadrian. You look at the round fortress and marvel that it’s stood there for almost 2,000 years. The use has changed, some of the aesthetic has changed, but the structure stands strong. Josephine isn’t old enough to appreciate the magnitude of time. We tell her things are thousands of years old, but that might as well be two weeks. However, the rest of us felt awed, and in Rome, a sight like the Castell Sant’Angelo almost goes overlooked because everything there radiates history. I’m sure many visitors don’t even know there was a Hadrian. They came to see gladiators and eat pasta. 

As we continued our trek, we made our way to the Piazza Navona, where there’s pretty much always a carnival of activity. In winter, it’s a Christmas market, complete with thick, silky hot chocolate, puppet shows, and a carousel. Overall, our Christmas Day was a glorious, remarkable, and delightful experience, one that we will remember and cherish for years to come.

Author: Jessica Givens.

Dinner at Isabel on Our Last Night in London

Jamil and I bond over food. As our friends (and even acquaintances) know, even on nights when work keeps us grinding until long after every rational person has settled down to watch television and zonk out, Jamil and I wait to eat until we can eat together. We don’t do separate dinners unless something truly bizarre occurs. That time together, eating and drinking and watching Jeopardy on an iPad, that’s when we cocoon ourselves away from the stresses on our shoulders. It’s when everything else gets put on hold. It’s that way but to the next level when we go out to dinner, and we want Josephine to share that experience with us. Consequently, we started taking Josephine to high-end restaurants while she still rode in a carrier. While I wouldn’t say she behaves like a perfect princess in a restaurant — she still gets antsy sometimes and occasionally throws a minor tantrum — she’s pretty freaking good. 

That’s why I felt okay about taking her to Isabel, the restaurant where we spent our last night in London. Isabel is elegant. The music is on point. The people watching astounds. The bathrooms rank among the coolest I’ve ever seen. The food and cocktails live up to the hype. Everyone in our party was happy. Josephine devoured a plate of Spanish pimientos de Padron, then enjoyed a plate of halibut. Jamil ordered a chicken breast and raved about it. My dad and mom loved their food, too. A happy, beautiful, fun evening.

Start to finish, we loved the experience. And we loved doing it in London, where the restaurant vibe differs substantially from that in the southern Mediterranean, where we spend so much of our time. The last time we did more of northern Europe with Josephine, she was really too young to withstand their behavioral standards in restaurants, and I kind of felt like we should leave her at home. This time, she had her act together. She was a companion to us all, sitting like a big girl in her own chair and ordering from the menu like a champ. We are so lucky.

Author: Jessica Givens.

Three Phenomenal Days & Nights in London

London is a difficult nut to crack – at least it has been for me. It took a while for me to go beyond the typical tourist activities: a day trip to the British Museum, lunch at an Indian restaurant, shopping at Harrods, dinner at a pub. This last trip, I felt like we had a vastly different experience, more targeted and more elevated. We had some extremely touristy activities on the agenda, but we also did things we felt were a little off the tourist path. 

We definitely had some pro-Josephine plans. For example, we went to the science museum to show her a replica of Apollo 11. She now thinks the Brits landed first on the moon. Okay, so we have a little reteaching to do… But she absolutely loved seeing the spacesuits and peering at a moon rock. I think it’s a little funny that the space section took up so much of our time when the giant replica of James Watt’s attic workshop reveals more aptly the impact British scientists had on modern technology. I’m not sure how enthused Josephine was about the clunky ladders and giant screws, but I feel like a person’s love of science grows exponentially greater when you contemplate how far we’ve come, how ingenious and insightful human beings are. The science museum in London is excellent for sparking those conversations and reflections.

In addition, we went to the Victoria & Albert Museum, which I cannot recommend enough. The only problem with the V&A is how massive it is. After multiple visits, I still haven’t visited the majority of the galleries, probably because I always have to return to the ones I’ve seen before. I’m passionate about the 1500-1760 gallery upstairs, which showcases the effect of the Renaissance on Britain. The halls highlight the intricate craftsmanship of that time — the teeny tiny miniature paintings, the ornate weapons, lockets, furniture, instruments, and more. My father and I loved showing Josephine the tapestries and the parquetry, the portraits of Henry VII and Elizabeth I, etc. And she loved the interactive parts of the museum, like the chance to try on a ruff collar or a metal gauntlet. It’s so well done, and people of any generation can find something to marvel at. 

Something else we did on this trip, which we’d never done before, was to go see a panto in the West End. I didn’t even know what a panto was when I saw the ad for a production of Jack and the Beanstalk at the Palladium. Marco, my assistant, knew what it was and gave me a little background, telling me we’d get cues for audience participation, which I thought Josephine would enjoy. However, my mom was dreading it. She’s a huge musical theatre snob. My dad was indifferent. Jamil and I thought it would be a kiddie show. Nothing special, but something we could all do to entertain Josephine. None of us could have predicted how outrageous and fabulous the show would be. This was the bawdiest production I’ve ever seen. It was downright dirty, actually, but because of the double entendre, the kids never caught the drift. They were simply mesmerized by the costumes, the sets, and the special effects. I’ve never seen anything like it. I have no idea how much they spent to put this show on, but it was totally an event. You should definitely check out a panto at the Palladium the next time you’re there, and don’t feel weird taking the kids. They’ll have the time of their lives and believe they’re watching a fairy tale. Afterwards, go for dinner at the Ivy in Covent Garden. It’s open late, and the British food had us all reeling. Josephine loved the fish and chips — a solid way to introduce kids to that staple!

Author: Jessica Givens

Wishing I Hadn’t Gotten a Bargain…

Our group of five enjoys sitting at the front of the plane, but that comes at a high price. To compensate, I’m always on the hunt for ways to maximize airline points. This time, that quest led me to split our group up, putting my parents on British Airways and Josephine, Jamil, and me on United. These British Airways tickets were reward tickets, so I just couldn’t turn them down. Now, I’m wishing I had.

For our departure, the flights were delayed due to a winter storm. Our flight was supposed to leave at 8:05PM, but it wound up taking off at 9:30PM. I talked to my parents right before we took off, and they were waiting in the BA lounge, preparing to board their modestly delayed 9:35PM flight.

I was concerned because I knew my mom was exhausted, my dad was recovering from a sinus infection, and we’d all been on antibiotics. All of us felt like this trip was a bit ambitious, given how sick everyone has been and how stressful work and bar prep have been for me. As my eyelids grew heavy around 11:15PM, I texted my mom, and their plane had yet to board. Thinking they were practically on their way, I fell fast asleep. But at 3AM, I woke up and checked the status of their flight. It took off at 2:47AM!!! My parents were sitting in an airport lounge until almost 3 in the morning.

As I sit here writing this, I am trying desperately to figure out how to do something to make their arrival somewhat palatable. Airport concierge services are all full… I’m not really sure how they’re going to make it through the airport, and I certainly don’t want them to pick up any bags at baggage claim when they’re too exhausted to think. My plan for now is to get to the hotel and ask for a driver to meet them. They have fast track service through immigration. That should help. We’ll try to get them a bigger, better room at our hotel, and they can just stay in tonight and order room service if they think that opportunity to rest and relax will make a difference. It’s just a mess.

I know it’ll be okay, but one of the real challenges with multigenerational travel is making sure everyone is safe and looked after. This trip begins with a bit more texture than I would have preferred, but I’m doing all I can to smooth out the rough spots.

** Update

Ultimately, the solution I landed on to help my parents was first to hire a VIP service. Because it was so last-minute – I was trying to book it as we were ALL in the air, flying – I had to contact a few companies. (Thank God for in-flight Wi-Fi.) Almost every company said they had no availability, but VIP Assist came through for us. A very nice man met my parents at their plane and escorted them through the airport.

I cringed to think of my parents standing in the interminable immigration line, and my weary dad would definitely have strained his back if he’d tried to lift their gargantuan bags. The gentleman from VIP Assist made sure they walked straight through passport control, and he collected all of their bags for them. Then, he called the driver I’d arranged and got them directly to the car. (If you ever need car service on the double, Blacklane never lets us down.)

When we saw them at the hotel, they were in amazingly good spirits. Although the experience in the airport forced them to sit in contorted positions and stay up insanely late, they slept well on the plane, and, unsurprisingly, they made friends with all the other passengers and the crew. They had, on balance, a positive experience. Unbelievable.

On another note, we also managed to have a great day, despite stressing about my parents’ predicament. After checking into our hotel, we took a brisk walk through the winter weather to visit the science museum, which is open until 6PM. Josephine ran around through recreations of James Watt’s lab and looked at antique prosthetic collections — nothing quite as scintillating, really. She also saw her first replica of the Apollo 11. She now thinks the Brits landed first on the moon. I guess a trip to NASA is in order when we get home. On the walk home, we stopped into Harrods and gawked per usual at the luxury. We never really get enough.

That night, back at the hotel, seeing Josephine’s fatigued little face, we decided to give her an evening to remember. We ordered a pile of room service and left her at the hotel with my dad, sitting literally right in front of the television with The Addams Family 2 in full effect. Jamil and I then took my mom to the restaurant Bluebird Chelsea, such a cute place. We went there before the pandemic in January 2020 and loved the vibe, so we always wanted to return. Fortunately, they survived COVID-19 and emerged just as energetic as before. This time, along with great cocktails and wonderful food, the festive ambience reinspired our Christmasy vibe and set us up to enjoy our very few days in London.

Just another abrasion, I guess.

Author: Jessica Givens.

Sending Josephine to school post-COVID was really exciting. All of a sudden, we met a flood of cool new people. Literally, everyone was great. For the first time ever, Jamil was excited about getting to know some of the other dads. When his friend Anthony invited him to join a Fantasy Football league for dads at the Briar Club, Jamil was stoked. He couldn’t wait to meet more of the dads and get to know them outside the traditional parent setting. So, when we planned a trip for Labor Day to Watercolor, Florida, Jamil said point-blank, we cannot miss the flight home on Wednesday afternoon; I have my draft.

Yeah, yeah, no worries.

Some time on Wednesday morning, Jamil asked me what time our flight left, and without even looking, I said, “12:20.” I just knew, no need to verify.

We set out from home for the airport around 10:50 because our house isn’t far from the airport, and the airport is truly tiny. You can basically just roll up, check your bags from the curb, then go park your car. It’s a no-brainer. All was well, until Jamil got a notification on his phone and looked down to see that the flight actually left at 11:50. So, 30 minutes really makes a difference when you’re cutting it that close, right? No time to breathe. Jamil stared straight ahead and muttered, “I asked for ONE thing.” So, I put the pedal to the medal and started zipping off to the airport.

Needless to say, we didn’t make the flight. And there weren’t any other flights to Houston that afternoon – not from Panama City, not from Destin, not even from Pensacola! We wouldn’t be able to get out for two more days. The only option was to drive to Mobile, three hours away, to catch a 4:50 flight. That would get us in at 6:30. The draft started at 7:00. We could do this! But there was one more hitch. As we rolled into the airport, our fuel tank was under the empty line. We couldn’t even leave the airport until Jamil took a taxi to the gas station and returned with a gallon of gas in a plastic tank.

This was a low low.

Finally, we got on the road – Jamil, me, Josephine, and both dogs. Josephine could tell things were rough. As we waited for Jamil to get back with the gas, Josephine had put her arms around my neck and promised that everything would be okay. (God, I love her.) But as we started driving down the small highway that would eventually connect to I-10, I wondered if she might be wrong.

Jamil didn’t utter a word. He stared straight ahead, seemingly mesmerized by the asphalt or the yellow lines of paint on the road. Determined to make the best of things, I rubbed his arm and said, “How long can you really go without talking to me?” To which he replied, “Easily 3 hours.” Yikes. 

I won’t bore you with details of the drive – not the fact that a panel flew off our precious Ford Flex, not the difficulty finding a bathroom for Josephine, not the fact that the Mobile airport is at the end of the longest, traffic-light-lined street on Earth. Nope, I’ll just take you to the Mobile Airport, which is NOT the nicest airport. The “i” in the word Terminal on the façade has fallen over; the parking lot has weeds growing through the concrete.

At the Mobile airport, we received more unsettling news: our flight had been delayed by a storm in Houston. They didn’t know when (or if) our plane would take off. Passengers queued at the gate, getting vouchers for future travel. Jamil and I contemplated staying somewhere overnight. We had given up on the idea of his draft. That was dead in the water. Just as I was about to get up and tell the United agents that we, too, were throwing in the towel on this flight, the desk attendant announced, “The storm has passed; we will board in five minutes.” I looked at Jamil and said, “As soon as we land, you book it over to the Uber stand. I’ll get the rest.”  This sparked a little hope. 

Somehow, it all worked out. The draft started right as we landed in Houston, and Jamil did his picks from his phone. He made it to the club in time to hang out with people and have a few drinks. I managed to get all five bags, both dogs, and Josephine to the car. Josephine went to sleep at a reasonable hour. All was well that ended well. And Jamil and I are still married.

Author: Jessica Givens.