I left Helsinki(just under 24 hours after I arrived) for my Bluetooth class in Southwood, UK. The Funnair pilot told us London was “very windy” – which for a Finnish person pretty much means “the windiest conditions I’ve ever flown in, we’ll be lucky to make it there alive.”
After leaving Helsinki 1 hour late, we circled Londonfor 45 minutes. I watched the plane make figure-eights on the GPS screen. I think those computerized maps are supposed to show clear progress in one direction- in this case they probably would’ve been better served by turning the darn thing off. My drunken neighbor (who asked for 2 chardonnays and a glass of apple juice every time the flight attendant passed used the opportunity to comment on the locations they had chosen to use as markers on the computerized map. “*bleeping** Runnymede! Who puts **bleeping** Runnymedeon a map! How do they bloody choose these places?!!” Then when our plane made its first double back I heard him mocking the captain “well folks, it appears that someone left their camera in Helsinki we’ll have to go back.” In all fairness the GPS thingy did show the plane make a perfect switchback – it was a full-on visual gag. They really should’ve switched the channel… a CBS Eye-On-American segment on seasonal vegetables would’ve been more motivating. As a side note, on a small ticker, the GPS screen showed the temperatures in different towns around Finland-and there’s actually one called Manneapaus- “Menopause!” Chardonnay man blurted out! “Where the *bleep* is that?”
We finally got hurtled into London and I was ready to spring into action. The car service told me they’d be holding a sign near the Travelex desk, what they failed to tell me is that there would be some 60-odd drivers holding signs with last names outside the Travelex desk. For once in my life, I thanked god for my “unusual” last name and managed to locate my driver in a mere 10 minutes of scanning laminated printer paper and white boards with last names scratched on them.
After 30 minutes of driving out into dark-rainy nothingness we pulled into the town of Fleet where I’d be staying. I got the name the hotel I booked from a co-worker who I trust, er, trusted. Believe me folks, the last thing you feel like after arriving on a cold rainy night, already pre-jetlagged from an earlier transatlantic flight is staying in a fricking haunted manse. This guy told me the place was “lovely.” Wait, did he say “lovely” ? or “lovely old”? Because lovely means lovely and lovely old means –it has character, which means, uh ohh it’s haunted!
The hotel described itself online as having “luxurious modern amenities” –I really should’ve read between the lines-(I know this! I know this!- it’s marketing jargon) they wouldn’t need to have said the word “modern” if the place was built in the last 200 years! Picture this: long wooded drive, large oak entryway. Full-on Jane Austin staircase and immense stained-glass windows.
I’m now consciously trying not to let my tired mind wander when the desk clerk (who I have now convinced myself has a Transylvanian accent) tells me how to get to my room- “Left, up zee stairs, left, up zee stairs, down zee hall, left up zee stairs“ During the car ride, I had tried to comfort myself with the thought that I had been placed in a more crowded section of the hotel- or better yet, as my car driver had told me “I think there’s an old section and a new section” and I was probably in the new section.
However, when we pulled up to the inn, I blurted out, “this place looks haunted!” – unable to keep it in- not caring if I sounded stupid and American because it was older than 1980- I, Molly, capable traveler was honestly scared. I can deal with a lot of things in my professional life- difficult co-workers, condescending men, technology seminars- but haunting? I had no script for this.
Every flight of stairs I climb gets narrower by half. I’m now talking to myself, or was I talking to potential ghosts. “I’m fricking not in the mood to stay in a haunted place tonight, *anything* is better than this, give me Motel 6, give me the frickin’ Heart O Chicago, I just can’t take haunted. If you plan on haunting me, I suggest you pick another night!”
After setting down my bags- which required some dexterity since my haunty-Mchaunterson room barely fits my bed (which I believe was folded down from the wall) and the old Zenith turn-knob TV, I realized I was hungry. I had asked Mr. Transylvania 2007 if there was any food nearby and he told me it was a 15 minute walk down the dark, wooded road- I’m sure he was pleased to know I was trapped. I headed back down the stairs, down the stairs, down the stairs to the “dining room” where it was just 2 other businessmen and me.
When I sat down I felt truly dazed. Like other-worldly dazed. If I said “dazed and confused” would that be too cliché? Heck, “dazed and confused.” When the buzzing in my head paused for a moment I realized we were listening to Tina Turner “private dancer” on the radio. I documented the first three songs I heard in the “dining room” on my napkin for safekeeping– because you just can’t make this stuff up. 1) Private Dancer 2) Listen To Your Heart 3) Must’ve Been Love (but it’s over now). I quickly ordered the pasta “and the check” and the waiter looked at me like a I was crazy to not want to sit around and soak up the ambiance and take more time with my over-priced penne -was $30 too much for pasta?
The $15 glass of Sauvignon Blanc tasted like old Band-Aids – No mom, I’m not becoming an alcoholic.—it was all just too much- the jetlagg, the old manse, the god-forsaken Tina Turner. Oh yeah, and then the CD started skipping “ba-da –dang , ba-da dang, ba-da dang” – Was I dreaming or was I really stuck in the “dining hall” of a haunted hunting lodge listening to skipping CDs of 80s power-love ballads?? Was it real? It was too weird for words, and it was too long before the host rescued the skipping CD. I ran back up to my room and shoo-ed the ghosts away climbing into my creaky bed to get some good shut-eye before my course.
I’m happy to say I survived 6 solid hours of “non-technical” Bluetooth training. Non-technical “HA!” If I hadn’t been living out a weird-trippy nightmare already- there was a TEST at the end of my course- A TEST! It was almost like those dreams you have where you’re back in high school taking the finals for a course you never attended.
I’ll give you a sample of one of the questions in my “Non-technical” course test-”Synchronous data in BT RF channel is coded in which format” a)CVSD b)A-Law c)U-Law d) Any of the Above” I was tempted to raise my hand and ask if there were any special considerations for English Literature majors staying in haunted lodges but kept quiet.
I am happy to report that I “passed” BT class and can now advise you on the maximum number of devices in a piconet or the data rate of SCO channel- totally usable stuff 
If this letter is longer than normal it’s because I’m putting off going to sleep for fear that the un-dead will get sick of raiding the rancid wine in the dining call and come in search of something more exciting- like the harassment of a doubly-displaced silly Yankee pretending to be a technical marketing person- I hope there’s more than one of me here.
Until next time….
You can put it on any Nseries or Eseries device and you’ll also get Mac compatibility.
