I'm stuck in Heathrow with no way to get a hold of you. And nothing to do for the next four hours but sit at the pub in Terminal 1. Don't even have your email address handy. Who knew? Poor planning on my part.
Why am I in London when I should have been in Roma seven hours ago? It is an insignificant tale full of sound, fury, a chick whose thick & gelatinous thighs rolled (squished) over me frequently over Greenland because of her "restless leg syndrome", screaming babies and worst: the clusterfsck that is O'Hare International Airport. My hometown.
I don't even know how far away Cardiff is. Nor do I have my cell phone (which would not have worked, anyway). So I'm waving. From the ground. Er...west, I think. (I think I'm waving west.) I would prefer it if you could join me here at the pub, of course, but I'll raise a glass and wave instead.
I will arrive a Roma sometime around 0100, a day after I was supposed to.
On the upside, woo!, I'm in London. :D It's foggy.
Nobody stamped my passport. I feel cheap.
Feeling that travel-weary, sleep-deprived, most-people-around-me-are-not-speaking-English happy buzz. (Very few people in O'Hare speak English, either.)
Maybe I'll go have that drink. After I buy a magnet saying I was here. Wonder if I can have an adventure.
Anyway. Hi, Z! I was here.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
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3 comments:
Hi there Jo
You were on my little island?
Cardiff's about a 2 hour train ride from Heathrow, so sadly without a bit of advance notice I wouldn't have been able to join you. Once I'd headed to the train station, boarded a train, got to Heathrow and found my way through the crowds, I'd probably have arrived just in time to see your plane disappearing off towards Roma. Oh well, maybe next time.
Though you were correct about Cardiff being west of Heathrow, so you were waving in the right direction. :)
That said, I note that despite having only just touched down on British soil, you seem to have immediately developed the finely-honed instinct that marks out a true Brit. That inner voice that says, "In times of crisis, head to the pub."
Clearly on the inside you are British. Or an alcoholic. Which pretty much amounts to the same thing.
Anyways, I hope you managed to get yourself safely on a flight to Italy, and that the rest of your holiday is more fun. Viva Italia!
Cheers, Jo! Hoist a black and tan for me.
I
hate
O'Hare.
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