April 5, 2019
The hotel staff helped me get a cab and carry my luggages from my hotel room to the taxi. The taxi driver is British and also has strong opinions about Brexit. I enjoy listening to Britishmen and women articulating their thoughts. Their royal accent is the reason why my sister is fantazing about living in England, to acquire their a-la-Catherine Zeta-Jones accent. The taxi driver’s name is Tony and his wife is Paula. They are going to Asia. New York, South Africa, and to so many other countries this year. He also helped me bring down my bags and loaded them onto a cart.
The minute I entered Heathrow’s Terminal 5, an airport volunteer named Gerald, helped me check in. A manager named Amanda, advised me to also check-in my white hand-carry to relieve me of having to drag it with my injured arm. She said they would not charge me extra. Gerald continued to help me till I was good to go. He is among the 150 airport volunteers who come and help confused travelers and/or those needing some kind of assistance like me. I really appreciated Gerald’s help so I would like to bring him pasalubong next time I am in London.
