Day
1
Why, why, why did I EVER agree to go for a
pre-going-away drink in the Stamford Arms - I really should've known better! I
will personally write a letter of complaint to the Landlord for allowing me to
continue drinking until half-one the night before a big flight - I will be
sending Roland the dry-cleaning bill in due course!
After 15 bottles of Smirnoff Ice, and a night on the toilet floor, I awake at
8.45 to a text message from Jemma, wishing me a good trip, and hoping that I'm
feeling OK (ahh bless!). OK, OK - I don't think so - the message arrives 2
hours after my alarm had originally gone off - if she hadn't've text me, I
think I'd still be comatose on Hugo's tiles! What a way to start the longest
trip of my short life - hungover, and running VERY late!
A short cab ride, then train to Heathrow, and I'm in the check-in queue. But
suddenly, I'm approached by some security dude - must be the long hair and
roll-up hanging from my mouth (a common theme throughout, no doubt!) - he asks
if I want to "jump the queue by agreeing to have my bag searched" -
"do bears shit in the woods" was my reply, and before I know it, I'm
in the departure lounge, sipping a bottle of Diet Coke, in the hope that the
'Gandhi's flip-flop' situation in my mouth will cease! It doesn't!
Onto the plane - what's this?? Mr Vant in economy! There must be some mistake!
Still, not wanting to cause a fuss, I wendle my merry way up the aisle to my
seat - right at the back. I arrive to see a little-old Indonesian lady in MY
seat - still, I'm too hungover to argue, and politely sit, without incident -
having noticed that one of the film's on offer was Anger Management (a film
which I can highly recommend) I felt it unnecessary to let the flight
attendants see the Director's mistake in not casting me in the lead role!
Will this flight ever end? I have a dead otter that needs burying in the
porcelain coffin!
Finally, I arrive at JFK airport - manage to get a mobile phone network
quick-smart, but soon get blasted by some big Custom's dude (with a big gun!!)
for texting Craig - welcome to the US of A! I tell him that I need to find out
what the Gills score was - he's not amused, and viciously taps on one of the
numerous signs clearly stating 'No Cell Phones' - I get the message!
I clear passport control, then onto Custom's, where another big dude stands; he
waits for me with an amusing smile, while smacking his blue Marigold's - GULP!.
I attempt a bit of humour by saying "I hope they're not for what I think
they're for" - this doesn't go down too well, and I'm told (in no
uncertain terms) "that's not funny sir" (at least he had the sense to
call me sir - by this stage, my hangover has gone!!). He then spots a roll-up
hanging from my mouth, to which he enquires "what's that?". I inform
him that it's a cigarette, which he promptly tells me "you can't smoke in
the airport - get rid of it" - man, this dude's got a serious attitude
problem, but the gun in his holster permits me to remain obedient.
He asks the purpose of my visit, to which I reply "I'm going surfing in LA
for 3 months" - he doesn't believe me, as I "have clearly decided NOT
to bring a surf-board with me!?!" I feel like a criminal, but nod in
approval of his observation - a smart-mouthed comment would've evoked a cavity
search I'm sure - something which (given the amount of beer I had last night)
would've been very messy for him, and not very amusing for me!
I clear customs finally, and head toward the departure gates - I don't see my
flight on the board - I'm in the wrong building! Nice of them to tell me this
when they took my baggage!
During my wait, I sit outside the terminal building, smoking a roll-up, and
begin typing this diary. A bag-lady (a distant relative of Tina's maybe?!?)
approaches, rattling, and asks why I'm sitting on the "sidewalk" -
"well, if they'd supplied seats, I'd've taken one" is my response -
she laughs, and I'm stunned! A five minute conversation later, and I manage to
find out that she's originally from the Caribbean (The Grenadines), has family
(a son) in London (where she's visited many times), used to live in Cambridge,
currently lives in New York but has lived all-over America, has been divorced,
wants to move back to her roots, visits the airport "just to meet
people", and her favourite food is fish and chips (from London!) - she's
never had pie and mash though!! My opinion of the locals has changed - she was
extremely friendly - and I managed to leave with wallet and laptop in my
possession - bonus!
Another departure gate accommodates me - man those planes are big - and it's
raining! Looking at the patter on the window reminds me of Blighty - hope the
weather's better in LA...
...After a half-hour delay (due to the rain) we finally set off from JFK - I
have a row of 3 seats to myself (again, in Economy - I must have a word with my
boss!!) so I guess I'll be having a wee lie down during the journey. Well, with
'What A Girl Wants' as the in-flight entertainment, sleep is definitely more
appealing!
I'm now both hungry and tired - lack of sleep and too much beer last night is
finally catching-up with me. So they serve me chicken curry - hope the hotel
has stocked-up on dunny paper, as I don't fancy dropping a large-baby's arm
over the state of Missouri! I've now lost all concept of time and rational
thought (if you hadn't already guessed!).
Laptop's running out of power, so I'll finish this off when I get to the hotel
- if I ever get there...
...I'm here - and my body clock is running at 05.35 (Sunday morning) even
though it's only 21:35 local time - I've been up for 21 hours, with only a
couple of hours shut-eye on the plane - man I'm knackered. Hotel room is cushy,
but am going to savour the delights of the bar before hitting the hay - start
this adventure as I mean to go on!!
END OF DAY 1 (Saturday August 30th 2003)