The Blog that wasn't supposed to be -- Day 1: bad language, bad help, and we're swamped :)

 Yes, gang, here we are again, with the first of many (I'm sure too many for some of you) blogs from this, the BIGGEST TRIP EVER!!!!  (no, no hyperbole at all) [there wasn't going to be a blog yet, but a lot happened and I had time tonight...]

Here's the Wikipedia Quick Facts:  8 of us are just outside Inverness, Scotland (if you're not keen on Scottish geography, it is WAY up north, and is the capital of the Highlands).  We are here to play golf, with 4 going home to Texas after 12 days, the 4 OGs going back to Scotland for 2 rounds outside Edinburgh, then RR and I meet K in London to start almost 2 weeks of "cultural" vacation -- London, France, Brussels, and Amsterdam. 

Who's along? For this part with start with the usual suspects: myself, my son (known as KG), my two brother-in-laws (known as Dbrolaw and B), my college friend RR (from the May trip), and three of KG's buddies from the Dallas area (for these purposes) -- G-man (his nickname from the Bandon trip 5 years ago), Z, and Vlad, a nickname so inside I'm the only one who understands it.  They'll distinguish themselves as the 12 days go by. 

I did the travel agent stuff for the trip, so am responsible for the accommodations -- though I asked for input and generally got shrugs of disinterest.  This first place is a manor house, replete with suits of armor in the front foyer. 

It's a banger! 

How many places have armor on the first floor landing (and a grandfather clock)?

The place has six bedrooms and five baths and Paul, the proprietor, has been renovating it for 15 years.  He's a bit of a character. 

But here you go, classic Steve travel story one: the place is a bit out in the country (it also has its own fishing rights on the River Nairn, which some advantage will be taken and I used the "get directions" link on their airbnb page to get us here from the airport (we'll come back to that...) I made what turned out to be the right right-hand turn off the motorway (A9 for those counting at home) and are immediately in a little village (it doesn't even have a pub, unlike the place 4 years ago in Ireland :)) 

I end up turning around in the middle of the village and try again, and now it takes us across the A9 (remember, I'm driving on the "wrong side of the road" trying to cross the superhighway) and down a lane that didn't hold two cars at once -- you had to dive in dive spots.  Coming back, a bus came crashing towards us and I found a spot to dive and survive into. 

Anyway,  the map took us to a gate with a sign on it that said, no shit! "This is not the Airbnb! This is a private home.  Don't open the gate and come in!" :). B said "if you're going to say you aren't the Airbnb, can't you tell us where it is?"  Fair point. 

The next iteration -- were we now trying Apple Maps? -- fyi, Db asked the guy at Enterprise which worked best and he said both were equally awful locally. :) -- sent me across the A9, up a muddy track.  At the top there was a turn, and a gate straight ahead.  I ended up calling Paul and he told me to come in the gate and we were there.  

Paul was dressed like Mick Fleetwood regaled in purple velvet.  And he'd done the tour thing 100s of times -- he went through everything so fast the four of us couldn't keep track of it all.  :) He was also wearing a purple velvet hat.   

The other thing that impressed us is there's a 1930s phone in the ground floor community room (there's one on the first floor, too) and it is live and calls him directly if you pick it up!  Neat trick.  Probably good idea. 

While we were doing this, the other four took the van (we have a seven-passenger van and a large Mercedes SUV -- when we get all the suitcases and clubs together, it's A LOT!) and went to Nairn Golf Club, which is like 15 minutes in the opposite direction from the airpo

Db, the designated van driver, whips into the course and they are all wondering "where's the water?"  and the clubhouse was less than they expected.  They go in and say "we're here to pick up our clubs" and the guy (alone) in the shop says "what clubs?"  "WE have 8 sets of clubs shipped here."  I guess the guy looked around and said "I think I'd know if I had 8 sets of clubs show up."  They were at Nairn Dunbar GC, not Nairn Nairn GC. :) :) :). 

They eventually found the right place and one worker didn't want to go get them, but sent them upstairs for a drink and to look at their archives (it's a modestly famous course in the UK).  They got them (if you wonder why we'd both, you would have to know golfers and their equipment...it's a thing). 

Okay, back tracking, here are some quick hitter stories:

• The plane from London to Inverness (which so far is lovely, there's a picture of their castle) was full of school children going on a trip.  Two sat next to me, and two in the outside two seats for several rows.  I'd say I taught them a new word, but one of them who sat next to KG dropped it more often than most people say "the." :).  He and his row companion were busted before we ever took off and a couple times thereafter. :). Youths. 🤷   The ruggers were very noisy. ):
• In logistics problem 1001, the driver who was supposed to pick of the 4 Texans and B was late.  And showed up in wrong spot.  And never flashed the card with my name on.  And then got lost on the way between airports (he's never done this before?!?!?!  WTF?!?!?).  I was told he got no tip! 
• While the driver wasn't showing up, B was texting, asking where he was supposed to be :). Db sent a picture of KG, myself, B and him from 3 summers ago and said "guess who is who" and I said "B is the one who doesn't read the material." :) [I thought it was funny]
• In a moment of !@#$%^&*() I checked in as Z for the flight to Inverness -- I had all 8 tickets in my Apple Wallet and didn't know it and didn't look.  Z, the last one to try to check in, was cutoff.  Eventually someone figured it out, but he said he was scared...
• and the early winner: RR and I were on the shuttle to the airport Thursday night and a whole group of United pilots got on.  So I asked them what the message to Db meant -- he was told a day ahead that his flight was going to be 3 hours late.  They said it was definitely (he changed flights and it worked out well) a red flag.  But then the one I asked said, "whew! I thought you were going to ask the question that is asked frequently". "Which is?"  "Are there aliens?"  We chuckled and talked about it.  It seems that is closely followed by "is it flat or round."  Discussion of water falling off the edges :).  People!

I"m sure I'm missing several, but that's enough of an opener.  Everyone has crashed early, since 6 of us (not RR and myself) "slept" on the plane last night from the States. 

I finish with this the food porn du jour -- fish and chips from the Castle Tavern, right above the River Ness in downtown Inverness -- five people ordered it and all raved, as you might imagine. 

Which brings us to the title: we were outside and had trouble getting even that table.  When the fish and chips came there was an immediate desire more tartar sauce (as you might see from the pic).  When we finally got our wait staff's attention, we were told "we're too swamped to get out anymore..."  We did eventually get another (small) bowlful.  

And, final food porn (there'll be golf porn tomorrow), RR's pancakes this morning at Bill's in London

NB I have left out a series of NSFW, or not safe for ANYTHING!, jokes told early today.  B says it wasn't his best material, bc you don't use it on the first day. 😂