The Enigma of Milton Keynes

This has been a strange week. I began the week at home, then flew to Long Beach followed by San Francisco, then to London. Now I’ve taken the train to Milton Keynes, home to Red Bull Racing and a place so far out of the way that, in WWII, it was used for code breaking. More on that later.

London from the air.

The trip here was interesting. I was fortunate to get upgraded to business class for the nine-hour, 59-minute flight across the United States, Canada, Greenland and the Atlantic Ocean. The flight was bumpy, but manageable. Nothing fell off the plane that I heard about – no wheels, side panels or door plugs. And the flight attendants were, as usual on international flights, truly the best.

Upon arriving at Heathrow, I headed through the now automated passport control line to officially enter Great Britain. On international flights I can either take melatonin            and get knocked out, or I can try to sleep on my own. Melatonin gives me vivid and strange dreams, and I feel drugged for hours when I wake up, so I avoid it if I can. For this trip, I needed to make my way to Milton Keynes which meant navigating the Tube (relatively easy – everything is in English) and then getting on a train (something I hadn’t done before in the UK). No melatonin for this leg of the trip.

Heathrow has a lounge outside of security for people flying business class on certain airlines. Upon entering the lounge, the employees seemed less than thrilled to see me. They were loath to let me in, and it took some persuading that my ticket did indeed qualify. After this, they insisted on checking my bag while they let others in with their luggage. I’m not sure what it was about me that made them so suspicious.

Now that I’m in Milton Keynes, I can rest and relax for the weekend. The food here is surprisingly good for a town in the middle of nowhere (about 50 miles outside of London). And most importantly, the bed is comfortable and right here. Time for sleep.