I take off. I land. So far so good as I have three hour lay over but decide to settle London right away and head to the Delta desk where the lady smiles with that smile that tells me she doesn't want to deal wit the problem and tells me she can't check me into that flight. I have to go to concourse E14 (which involves a train at some point) so I head that way and it feels as if I've walked to Birmingham by the time I get to E14, which is closed or at least temporarily abandoned. Figures.
Quick fun fact: Every departure monitor I see shows no flight to London involving Delta so guess my mind set now. I console myself by reminding myself that Athena still lives in Atlanta and I could go and crash with her, I mean if I had her number which is on my cell phone back in Big Rapids but that's just one small detail. I would later find out that Air France was actually the carrier on my next leg but of course it says nothing on my itinerary. Thank you, Delta!
I head to the gate where the flight is scheduled to depart and all I find there are two people who look like they've seen the worst of the day. I head back down the hall and finally find a desk with living breathing humans. Luckily for me the one lady is a trainee so she has to help so she can learn and I rejoice until her trainer looks baffled and finally says, "You're headed to Grand Rapids?" I just came from Grand Rapids I tell him and he shrugs a bit and all I can think about is that lady all the way back before the walk to Birmingham and that grin of hers. As murderous thoughts invade my mind I suddenly hear the trainee meekly state "Is that his seat number?" Suddenly all is well as they realize they couldn't check or change my reservation since it was in use by some sweet angel who remembered to put me on the aisle. Apparently pre check-in and seat assignments with international flights are a misnomer. She prints me out my boarding pass and I can only giggle in relief, as if I'd won something.
One thing you should know, I can't sleep on planes. So trips like this always means that I'll be up for at least 24 hours or more and that's not counting the adrenaline spurt I get after I land where I decide to charge into the city. I had hoped it wouldn't be that way this time. I was exhausted when I got on the plane and I thought maybe a cocktail would help but liquor is more of a fuel than a sleep aid for me so I relented and soberly watched, "The Express," the Ernie Davis story. The following movie was "The Secret Lives of Bees." I don't know who picked them but they both have very strong racial overtones in regards to America's past. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing to bring up these issues and such but what a horrible postcard to give all the tourists leaving America before heading back home. Why not just show eight hours of GWB answering press conference questions.
I land at eleven London time, it's five in the morning back in America and I feel absolutely and totally fine. I make my way through the whole passport-stamping thing in about two point two seconds. I tell you it's easier to get into England that it is out of Dallas-FT. Worth. I grab my ankles and change some money since I have to take the underground immediately and will need cash since they stopped taking smiles as payments years ago. I collect my bag, get a day pass, and then take the Piccadilly line to the District line back to Richmond where I scat about for my friend's boyfriend's place of work so I can collect a key to their flat. I'm on a budget and am not afraid to bum a bed especially when they have a spare. He gives me what I think are pretty direct directions until I get twenty feet and realize what he's told me doesn't make any sense. right at that moment, of course, it begins to rain. I search and search with sixty pounds of gear strapped to me until I run across a DHL driver entertaining a deliver. I wait, where am I going right? I apprehend him and he immediately knows where I am to go and gives me succinct directions there. I look at him with the most tired pleading eyes of my life and ask if he could just drive me. He, at first, was totally game but the reality of possibly losing his job made him repeat the directions as he scurried off. No matter, six or seven minutes later I'm totally on the other side of where the boyfriend had told me to be but I stick the key in and the door pops open. I am so sure this isn't the right place that I check the mail to make sure it says his or her name. It does...ah sweet relief.
I tramp up the stairs and find the spare and drop my bags as I sit on the bed. A decision has to be made. I either stay awake and switch my sleep schedule here and now or I take a nap. I look down and see that my shoes are still on and I can feel that there's a rumbly in my tumbly so I head out with keys and cash in hand to explore Richmond. Oh who am I kidding, I just wanted a beer.
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