One of the most common recurring nightmares in the minds of
travellers, even seasoned ones, is that of
arriving at the airport too late to catch your flight. With most
airlines recommending two hours for short haul and three for longer flights,
many people could be forgiven for not wanting to spend too long just hanging
around at the airport. However, with increased security checks, combined with
greater numbers of people flying, it really does pay to get to the airport
sooner rather than later.
Several years ago, on a flight back to Japan, I threatened
to leave my business colleague browsing the airport shops, They had called our flight and were
asking all passengers to make their way to the gate, but my co-worker was
insistent on having one final look for some presents for her children.
Once she realised I wasn’t joking, she abandoned her last
minute shopping and accompanied me to the gate. Like many international
airports, Kansai sprawls over a large area, and it was quite a trek to where
our aircraft was due to depart.
I have heard similar tales from friends and co-workers of only just
making a flight, due to delays in getting to the airport, (stuck in traffic,
train cancellation, accidents etc), so it is a golden rule of mine to always
allow plenty of time before a flight.
The first leg of my homeward journey from the United
States last August, is a case in point of
how not to arrive happy and relaxed at the airport. If you’ve been following
my travels, you would be aware that I spent six days staying with my sister and
her husband, at their home in a small town, about 50 minutes’ drive from
Cleveland, Ohio.
Cleveland
airport is slightly nearer, and on the last day of my stay, my brother-in-law
arranged to drop me off there, for my flight home. It was a Monday, and
although he’d taken the previous week off, to keep me entertained, he had to go
into work that morning.
His absence gave my sister and I the perfect excuse to nip
out for a McDonald’s breakfast. Her husband isn’t a massive fan of “junk food”,
having seen its effects on far too many of his over-sized fellow countrymen, but my sister
and I fancied something a little decadent, and something my brother-in-law
would not have approved of.
We did the whole American thing, picking up our breakfast
from the local drive-thru’ McDonald’s, before heading down to the lakeshore to
fill our faces. The shore in question is that of Lake Erie, and a short distance away
from my sister’s place, there’s a nice public area where you can park up, get
out and stretch your legs whilst enjoying the view of the lake. It was a sunny
August day, and the lakeside setting was just right for our slightly decadent,
fast-food breakfast.
Afterwards, we drove over to the nearby town of Oberlin,
to allow me to get some last minute shopping. Back at the house, we waited for
my brother-in-law to arrive home, whilst I completed my packing. We would then
be heading off to the airport, stopping for lunch on the way.
My flight wasn’t until 7pm,
so a 5pm drop-off would be fine, but
it wasn’t until we were in the car and my brother-in-law suggested a brewery
and tap-house, called “Loggerheads” as an ideal lunch stop that my alarm bells
started ringing – just ever so slightly. He hadn’t been there before, but
claimed he knew where the place was, so with my luggage safely stowed in the
back of the car, off we went.
We headed due east, towards the airport, before leaving the
freeway and heading in a southerly direction. I was enjoying my ride through
the Ohio countryside, but as we
continued further south, I started to get just a little anxious. This was
silly really, as we still had plenty of
time, but when my sister started disagreeing with her husband, in the way that
many couples do as to which route we should be taking, I became slightly more
alarmed.
She was insisting he used the Google Maps setting on his phone to find the way; he,
like most of us males, was adamant he knew where he was going and didn’t need
help from his phone, or any outside assistance. I realised that, like the
pattern adopted in towns and cities, many rural roads in America
follow a similar grid design, so it was pretty easy to ascertain the direction
of travel, but when we eventually started heading east again, we ran into a
series of road closures and then actual road works.
This was where my sister put her foot down, and resorted to
Google. In the meantime, the countryside had changed from mainly flat and open
pasture, to a much more hilly and wooded landscape. The well-maintained
homestead, with their neatly manicured lawns, had also changed to something
much more rough and ready. I jokingly suggested that my hosts were planning
to abandon me in the heart of “Hick-country”, and I would never be seen again!
We eventually reached the location my brother-in-law was
looking for, but there was no sign of
Loggerheads Brewery. The Google Assistant did inform us though that there an
establishment, just up the road, called “Lager Heads BBQ Smokehouse”. That was when the penny dropped and we realised my brother-in-law had got the name wrong! Not to be outdone we
headed off in the recommended direction, and sure enough, found the place at a location called
Abbeyville, to the north-west of the township
of Medina. We parked up, and went
inside.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUPiYqX7QvEbt3ERQ_gmKhR5svQNpKukagm4odbfsTAq7oeUZS8Um1X0g_M-nIYH8uiQJ81TjtFA7uUZADHWsD91uvuRT9fWvQljwmjY3MSR8jjSSbqlzugsapVBbbK52gm984ugl9mKs/s320/20180820_152729.jpg)
Lager Heads BBQ Smokehouse, was established in
2004 by two
brothers, and concentrated initially on the brothers’ own recipe
BBQ sauce and
hickory smoked meats; all processed in-house in a building which dates from the late
1800’s. Following the success of the restaurant, the brewery was established in
2010,
and five years later the production capability was doubled. At the same time, a
sampling room was opened, and this was where we found ourselves, after our
scenic tour of
rural Ohio.
There was a long bar at the front of the building, with the
usual handful of people sitting at stools. After being greeted and asked if we
were eating, we were shown to a seating area towards the rear, and found ourselves
perched at one of the ubiquitous high tables.
Although I was moderately hungry, with a six hour flight
ahead of me, I didn’t want anything too large. Equally I didn’t want anything
too strong to drink either, so those 7% plus "hop-bomb" IPA’s were definitely out of
the question. Fortunately there was a 4.1% Pilsner, called “Tackle Box”, on
tap, and also a session IPA. Both were tasty, refreshing and fitted the bill.
As for the food, I opted for deep-fired, breaded cod, in a
bun; what the Americans call a
“sandwich”. I skipped on the fries, but did tuck
into the bowl
the almost obligatory side
offering of
“slaw”. Despite its isolated location,
Lager Heads was a pleasant
enough place which seemed to have plenty going for it, and was a good place for me to end my
North American visit. Our server was friendly and helpful, even though I managed to confuse her with my
UK Visa
card, when it came to paying the bill. After several attempts she did managed
to get the payment to go through by tapping in the
“long number “ manually.
One final point, which I know will be of interest to other
readers. Hanging on the wall of the corridor leading to the toilets
(bathrooms?), was a Bass mirror. It was very obviously repro, as you will see
from the photo, but with its contemporary styling, makes no pretensions of
antiquity.
The journey to the airport passed without incident or
anxiety, as it turned out that we weren’t that far from Hopkins Field – Cleveland’s
International Airport.
My brother-in-law had maintained this all along, but despite knowing his mischievous
sense of humour, my sister and I hadn’t believed him.
Needless to say, I arrived with plenty of time to catch my
flight, and after passing through security and passport control, was left
clicking my heels. But you knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?