As I write this I’m watching the sun rise from Heathrow in a most luxurious lounge chair where I intend to take a long nap. I am truly sorry that technology is not so expansive as to allow me to live-blog from the airplane, because believe you me, I would have utterly adored recording the minute details of Flight #1¹: the 9 year old boy who fell asleep on my shoulder², the first movie³, the second movie*, the flight attendant who asked if I was old enough to be drinking**, the dad-slash-photog who kept snapping pictures upon take-off and landing***, &C. &C.
All this to say that I’ve arrived half-way safely, and certainly not without the help of a great deal of people (many hands make light work, I get by with a lil help from my friends, &c.), so thanks all and I look forward to updating you all on the next leg of my journey. My departure from Ye Olde Hub was framed by frantically lowering my baggage weight (all the while muttering Mean Things toward the airline agent under my breath) and bursting into hysterical tears as I hugged my mom goodbye†. Sort of an appropriate goodbye to a city that I have a really wretchedly Love/Hate relationship with, I think.
¹Yeah, I could wait until my actual arrival, but I’ve got time to kill and Free Wi-Fi.
²I wasn’t annoyed because I love little boys.
³Did not anticipate I Love You, Man being as funny as it was
*I love bad movies but Ghosts of Girlfriends Past was painful in that way where you find yourself halfway through writing a discursive analysis of class, race and gender as portrayed by H.M. Matthew McConaughey and then go, “Wait. I’m doing a discourse analysis on a MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY MOVIE.”
**I tried to reassure him with a, “No, no, no, I’m actually 24!” but the man looked skeptical.
***Only a white dude can get away with that on an airplane.
†I’m certain many of you will be delighted by this fact that I am continuing my longstanding tradition of Crying In Public. The perfect Catharsis for what has been a fairly stressful several months.