We woke bright and early in the quite lovely Gatwick Sofitel hotel knowing that we needed to check-in quick-smart in order to get a decent seat on the plane.  In fact, since trying (and failing) to check-in online and reserve a seat, it was all we could think about.  The long flight to Las Vegas was looking less and less appealing.  We are both taller than the average bear with lanky legs to boot, so 10 hours 15 minutes with our knees jammed into the seat in front was not a happy prospect for us.

We had already discussed the option of upgrading our tickets and when we arrived to see a long queue at check-in (albeit a queue for all flights, not just ours), we decided an upgrade was the best way to make the flight more bearable.  After a bit of a kerfuffle, we managed to get two seats in premium economy.  Our wallet may have been a great deal lighter but we at last could start to relax and get excited about our amazing trip to come.

Once on board, we could barely contain our smugness and delight to find that we had been seated on the emergency exit row so had all the leg-room we needed and then some.  The long flight seemed to fly (please excuse the pun) – good films, tasty (for a plane at least) food and the all-important easy access to the toilets all helped to make this a better flight than we thought possible.

Before we knew it, we were on our descent to Las Vegas, taking in breathtaking views of an aquamarine Lake Mead and squinting to see the tiny crescent that is the Hoover Dam.  On landing, we were among the first group to disembark meaning the queue for immigration was very small.  After a slightly less-than-terse border control officer (who, relatively speaking, was the friendliest US Border Control officer we had come across) ushered us through, we skipped past the baggage reclaim, as per the instructions of the Virgin Atlantic rep at Gatwick.  This turned out to be a fateful decision – more on this soon!

After a bit of comical running around trying to find the US Airways check-in, we managed to get ourselves to the gate only to find a) the gate had been changed (cue more running around) and b) the plane was delayed.  Luckily, the delay was minor and we were soon up in the air again, enjoying the vista of the snow-peaked Sierra Nevada mountains.

On landing in San Francisco, our baggage-related sinking feeling turned out to be totally justified – the last bag came round the turnstile and it wasn’t ours.  We found the lost baggage office fully expecting either total incompetence, a total lack of interest and at least two days without our luggage.  We could not have been more wrong.  We were met by what could be the nicest man on earth.  Literally.  He gently chided us for NOT collecting our baggage in Las Vegas (we were meant to check it in to the US Airways flight ourselves) and then proceeded to tap our details into his computer (in this case, Computer says “Yes”) including our hotel address and assured us the luggage would be delivered to our front desk that night.

Leaving our luggage in Las Vegas turned out to be a really clever move.  We were able to get ourselves on to the BART – the train into San Francisco centre – without lugging our luggage (I guess that’s where it gets its name) and found ourselves checked-in to our room and ready for food with a minimum of fuss.  After devouring half a chili dog and milkshake at a nearby 1950s-style diner, we crawled into bed at about 9pm local time (which is 5am UK time), utterly exhausted.  Despite lingering concerns about our bags, we slept well.