Okay, so after the whole passport thing, I, weak with laughter, staggered out into the street and rang my Mom, telling her the whole story. As I finished, there was a pause, and then...

"I am going to KILL you!!! You are lucky that you are far enough away that I cannot get my hands around your NECK!!!!"

So that went about as I expected.

Then I had to buy film, get home, pack and leave the house by 3p so that I could be on time for my plane. And eat, because I was starving.

The problem was, of course, that I had been so hysterical about the passport that once that was over, I relaxed, even though I had so much more to do! I strolled to the bus, I wandered around, I went to the drug store to get a travel soap dish, I took busses everywhere, all of which were slow and pokey and took yonks to arrive, then I all of a sudden realized that time was growing short!

Stupidly, I went all the way to the photo store on the East Side, because it felt like Saturday, so I didn't go to B&H, which is Orthodox-run, and thus is closed on Saturdays. And L&M, for some unknown reason, only had six rolls of my favourite black and white film (Fuji Neopan 400, for those keeping track), rather than the 20 that I wanted. I bought them, and colour film as well, then rang B&H to remind myself of their exact location, but they had just closed for the Sabbath. Dammit.

So I went home on the slow bus, and got there about half and hour before I had to leave. Rush rush rush! Pack pack pack! Try to remember everything, thank God that I did the laundry the night before. Ticket, passport, wallet, everything else can be done without, if necessary. And for heavens sake, shower! No time, no time, I will just have to arrive in London encrusted with filth. The poor people sitting beside me on the plane...

Ran out the door only 15 minutes late, made it to the airport ontime, all was well. Astonishingly enough. Of course, when I was on the plane, I realized that I had forgotten the pictures of Georgia that I had finally blown up for Greg and Elaine, but it's not a real trip unless you forget something, that's what I always say.

Of course, that's what I always do, so I kind of have to say it.

The plane was very full, so I was in a row of three for the six hour flight. Not in the centre, of course, but you know how you always hope that that seat next to you is free so that you can flip up the armrest and let your butt spread. And my butt needed spreading, let me tell you, that was the narrowest goddamn seat in all the land. And the food was delicious, so it was like some weird Hansel and Gretel thing where they were fattening us up so that we would be stuck in our seats and at their mercy.

There were the little TVs in the seats in front of us, but none of the movies really appealed to me. They had a sitcom channel, though, and one of the things that they showed was the new Blackadder special, Blackadder Back and Forth, which I had missed when it was on TV just a few days ago. It was great, too, and fun to see all of my faves from the 80's and early 90's, still alive, still doing the same old shit, and it still being wonderful--Rik Mayall, Miranda Richardson, Tim McInnerny, Hugh Laurie, Stephen Fry, and of course Rowan Atkinson and Tony Robinson.

Funny to hear someone say the name Baldrick and have them not mean my cat.

I went to the bathroom, took off my watch to wash my hands, and left it behind. I went back five minutes later and it was gone. Grumble grumble grumble, I went! One of these thieving bastards stole my watch, I cried, in my head, so I asked the flight attendant to see if anyone had turned it in, and they had, so I had to change it to one of these honest samaritans had returned my watch! Shame on me for assuming otherwise.

This was the first in a trifecta of me doing stupid things by not paying attention and just wandering around like a baby duck, things that could have been mildly to greatly disastrous, but that weren't, because at the last second, it all turned out all right.

I definitely got the impression that someone was looking after me.

At one point they passed around invigorating face cloths. That was what it said on the package, invigorating face cloths, but the package was so well-sealed that it was impossible to open.

It was really funny, I was turning it round and round, tearing at it with my teeth, practically, absolutely unable to get it open. I finally had to poke a hole in it with my pen.

I thought, "Maybe what they mean by invigorating is what you have to go through to open it! I'm certainly all invigorated now!"

I tried to sleep while on the plane, but I just couldn't manage it. The seat was so uncomfortable, and I find it hard to sleep sitting up at the best of times, but I just settled down nicely, we started to land.

Which just about figures.

The funny thing was that I fell asleep on takeoff, I don't know why. I wasn't even tired then, it just happened, we started taxi-ing, and I just clonked out for half and hour.

Anyway, we arrived in London, and it was today, this morning, 6a local time, and I was home. I was absolutely stiff with filth, exhausted, and my butt and legs hurt from sitting in that seat for so long, but I was home.

It would still be, though, ten hours before I would actually get to sleep in a bed, and ten long hours they were indeed.

One year ago today:
...so I'm guessing that they're all forgetting their roles as the historical oppressors of my people and are drinking green beer and wearing "Kiss Me I'm Irish" pins.

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